


Tales As Old As Time

by Cardinal_Daughter



Series: Rumbelle Fics [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 98
Words: 113,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: All my old Rumbelle fics from my old Tumblr account (woubazoid) stored in one place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm making some changes with my online presence, and that includes changing my username on some sites. I was woubazoid. These fics were all on my tumblr, but I'm moving them all over here into one collection.
> 
> I'm aware of spacing/formatting issues on some chapters. I will fix those at a later date.

**Red Lips Staring**

_**Originally Published on Tumblr October 2014** _

 

_“Clip…..clop….red….lips…don’t stop….staring. Staring through…..the hole….Here she….comes….There….she goes….”_

Belle knew she was being watched. She was always being watched. The red lips always watched her, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and claw at them. She hated the red lips. They were cruel and they smiled and stared until she could do nothing but curl up and cry.

 _“Red lips…don’t…stop,”_  She whispered to herself, her hands clutching at her ears.  _“Clip clop. Clip…clop. Red lips don’t. Stop.”_  She pressed harder against her ears. She hated the sound of the clip-clop that was the harbinger of the red lips. The red lips that stared at her. The red lips that mocked her.

The red lips that-

_“Stop.”_

She hugged herself tighter, tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t like the room they’d taken her to. She didn’t know who they were, but she didn’t like them and but she also didn’t want to go back to her small room with the white marks on the wall and smears of blood where she’d clawed and scratched, trying to drown out the sound of the clip clop.

_“Clip. Clop.”_

This room was far too bright, she thought to herself. Bright like the red lips that hovered beyond the door, smiling sinisterly at her. She brought her hands to her face and touched her own lips, rubbing them carefully before she began to scratch at them until they bled. When she moved her hands away to see the blood she grinned and laughed, a dry, broken, haunting sound that made the nurses who passed by cringe.

_“Red lips. Red lips.”_

The door opened then, and a nurse walked in, hands behind her back and Belle looked up at her. She did not like this woman, and she knew what was coming next.

 _“Is it time to float?”_ She asked dreamily and the nurse, indulging her, nodded and gently took Belle’s arm, injecting the needle into her pale, dry skin.

The effect was almost immediate, and Belle smiled drunkenly as she looked over at the large mirror on the opposite end of the room.

 _“Clip clop. Clip clop. Red lips….don’t stop…staring staring…through the hole. Here she comes…there she…goes.”_  She laughed tiredly and lay down on the bed she had been sitting on. She felt light; like she could spread her arms and fly away and she welcomed the weightlessness of the sensation. She liked feeling light. She liked knowing she could soar above the clip-clop of the red lips and find peace in a world that was colored in gold instead of black and white. And red.

 _“Red…lips…stare…”_ She whispered again as she succumbed to the darkness and all was silent.

-000-

On the other side of the two-way mirror, Mr. Gold watched her, tears streaming silently down his face. “What does it mean?” Gold asked Dr. Whale softly as they watched Belle through the two way mirror.

“I haven’t the slightest clue,” Whale responded, resting his hand on his head. “She’s been saying it ever since we found her, and I haven’t been able to get a sensible word out of her since. I don’t know what Regina did to her before the curse and I had no idea we even had that basement until the curse broke. There’s no telling what happened to that poor girl. Regina is missing and I can’t run any tests on her because anytime we try to get her to leave the room she goes into hysterics and we have to sedate her.”

Gold sighed despairingly. “Will she ever recover?” Whale winced at the desperation in the man’s voice.

“Hard to say,” Whale commented. “Only time will tell. If I can get her to remain calm, I can see if there is any lasting damage to her brain. No doubt she’s traumatized; I just don’t know how badly.”

Gold nodded and reached out to grip the doctor’s arm. “Help her,” Gold said brokenly, “Please help her.”

-000-

Later that night, Belle awoke to the sound of clip-clops in the hall. She held her breath and waited for the red, but it never came, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t like the red. She’d been told the red was gone but she knew it would come back. No matter how much time passed, the red lips always came back. She closed her eyes, missing the world of gold. That place was safe and warm and quiet. The clip-clopsoutside was deafening and she put her hands over her ears to try to drown out the sound.

They spoke about her like she couldn’t hear them. Like the clip-clops had rendered her deaf. But she could hear. She heard words like  _trauma_ and  _damage_  and though she wasn’t entirely sure what the words meant, she knew they weren’t good and she knew the strange people who found her thought her mad. They couldn’t hear the clip-clops nor could they see the red lips, but she could. In the dark she could always see them. Staring.

She knew everyone thought the clip-clop and the red lips that stared and grinned had caused her to fall into madness. But she disagreed. She didn’t fall.

She floated.


	2. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has a plan.

**The Plan**

_**Originally Posted to Tumblr 2013** _

 

It’s the same every Tuesday. Every week the three elderly sisters – better known in the other world as the patron godmothers to the Sleeping Princess – enter the library at precisely 2:30 pm for their weekly book meeting.

But Belle realizes there is an ulterior motive. She believes – with good reason for she doesn’t believe anything unless she’s been given a solid foundation for it – that the women come expressly to gossip about her relationship with the Dark One.

It’s insulting enough to know they are talking about her. It’s downright offensive that they do it in her domain.

She can hear their discussions - of course she can and they know it – and while they  _ _do__  discuss books – awful, droll pieces of fiction that even Belle finds difficult to trudge through – somehow the conversation always turns from the analysis of a character’s motive to the motive of why a dark master of magic would ever want a pretty, young princess. Or how she could ever want him in return.

Belle wants to reproach them for speaking of things which they do not understand. But they  _ _are__  patrons of the library, and currently she does not have an abundance of those, what with magic creatures and ancient rivalries being put aside as truces between old foes are drawn, and there isn’t much time for idle reading.

But there apparently seems to be plenty of time for gossip.

And for her part, Belle stays resolute in that she will not retaliate directly. She will not give them the satisfaction of knowing their words hurt her. But they do. Not because they are speaking ill of her (in her place of business), but because they are speaking ill of the man she loves, and she longs to stand up for him.

But Belle is not one to seek out cruel vengeance. But she is fond of learning, and what better way to prove the old hags wrong than to  _ _teach__  them a lesson? One comes to the library to learn, after all, and Belle is determined that they will learn.

She tells Rumplestiltskin of her problem – and instantly has to use all her force to keep him from storming to their house and beating them with his cane- and asks if he will assist her in her own form of revenge. It’s not a term Rumplestiltskin associates with his love (and it’s not a word he  _ _wants__  to associate with her) but when she tells him what she’s thinking, he cannot help but smile deviously.

He knew there was a reason he loved her.

They decide the following Tuesday will be when the plan is put into action. It’s simple and harmless; a completely Belle-like plan. All she wants is for Rumplestiltskin to stop by while the ladies are having their weekly book discussion, ask her to dinner, and give her a kiss, all of which Rumplestiltskin readily agrees to do. She wants them to see just how gentlemanly and kind and loving he is – not at all like the monster that paint him as - and so at precisely 2:30, the ladies walk in, nodding curtly to the librarian as they make their way over to their usual table and begin discussing this week’s book.

She sits at the desk and pulls out her phone, typing a quick text to Rumple.

__They’re here._ _

She waits for a moment, and when he doesn’t respond she puts her phone away with a shrug. He’d mentioned the shop had been busy as of late, so perhaps he is with a client and won’t be able to make it today, which is a shame. But there’s always next Tuesday.

Ten minutes later the door opens, which causes everyone to look up because no one else enters the library on Tuesday afternoons, and Belle doesn’t have to fake her surprise when she sees Rumplestiltskin swagger in – if such a feat can be done when one limps – holding one hand behind his back. Belle can hear that the women have gone silent, and she can’t hide the large grin that appears on her face.

“Rumple,” she says with delight, and even though it’s part of the plan, she has no need to act. She sweeps around the desk to stand before him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” he says, not even bothering to keep his voice down. “The shop was slow; I thought I’d stop by.”

She smiles again. “I’m glad you did.” And she means it.  

He pulls his hand from behind his back and presents her with a single red rose, a reminder of a time long ago when they were shy in their affections. Now they are anything but.

She takes the rose from him, the look on her face pure awe. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but her Rumplestiltskin is a master of putting on a show, and though she knows the gesture is as sincere as it can be, it’s no secret between them that he’s doing this because they have an audience.

“It’s beautiful!” She exclaims, clutching it tightly. “What’s the occasion?” And she has to admit, she is curious to hear his response.

“The occasion,” Rumplestiltskin says, a sly, seductive grin on his face, “Is that it’s Tuesday and I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” And she did, but he spoke the words with such desperate longing, one would think they hadn’t just seen each other that morning, she having spent the night in his bed yet again. The apartment above the library was practically pointless at this stage in their relationship.

“I thought I’d come see you and ask if you were free this evening.” He knew she was. And that was part of the fun.

“I am,” she says sweetly.

“Then,” he says as he moves his free hand to curve around her waist, “Would you permit me to take you to dinner?”

She hums softly, nodding her head so that the old ladies can see her acquiescence to his request. “I would love to have dinner with you.”

He pulls her close then – to kiss her as the plan stated – but it’s not the sweet, chaste kiss she expects. No, this is a kiss reserved for their bedroom, when he is seducing her and removing her clothing one piece at a time. This is a kiss that is not fit for three seemingly innocent old ladies to see, and it is not a kiss a man bestows upon a librarian during business hours. But he is Rumplestiltskin and she is Belle, and they never do anything by the books.

And Belle is certain she can hear one of the ladies gagging.

Finally, she and Rumplestiltskin break away and he steps back only far enough to take her hand in his and bring it up to his lips in the chaste kiss that should – and thankfully hadn’t – been the one he was supposed to give her.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” he says, and his eyes are dark and his voice, though loud enough to ensure the women hear it – and all it suggests – is husky and breathless.

“I close at 5:30,” she informs him unnecessarily. He knows her schedule as she knows his and, devious plan or not, he’ll be there at 5:30 to whisk her away.

“Until then,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to her knuckles. He turns, pausing halfway to meet the eyes of the ladies staring aghast at them from their table. He nods to them briskly, pretending he only just now sees them and says coolly, “Good afternoon, ladies.” And then he’s gone.

Belle waits for a moment, then turns, ducking her head in a modesty she only half-feels at this point, and goes in search for a vase for her rose.

She listens carefully to the rest of their conversation that day, and the women do not once mention her or the Dark One or their relationship. She considers her plan a success.

Though the following Tuesday, when the ladies walk in at precisely 2:30 to see the Dark One and the librarian pressed up against the front desk, hands buried in each other’s hair and lips moving desperately together, they decide that perhaps there is more to the couple’s relationship than they thought.

They also decide that perhaps it’s time to move their weekly book meeting to another establishment.


	3. Sight and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He cannot speak nor move. But he can still see and hear, and he sometimes thinks that is the worst torture of all.

**Sight and Sound**

_**Originally Published  to Tumblr 2013** _

 

He cannot speak nor move. But he can still see and hear, and he sometimes thinks that is the worst torture of all.

It was an agonizing pain that shot through him when Belle snipped off the lower part of the stem that was now his body. But he could neither scream nor cry. Those things were only attributed to humans, which he was no longer. That demon who now sat next to Belle had robbed him of his humanity.  
  
He watched as the two of them shared tea, speaking softly of things that the sorcerer desired to keep hidden. He watched as Belle offered the creature gentle and reassuring touches. He watched as she got to know the creature, slipping in between the cracks of a broken heart and setting them to rights.   
  
Gaston watched as the monster let her go, granting her the freedom he’d tried - and failed - to give her. She left, all smiles and sweetness and Gaston wondered what would become of him now that he girl who’d taken care of him was gone. He watched as the monster paced frantically, trying his best to convince himself that this was for the best and he would not miss the meddling girl. Gaston knew otherwise and merely watched as the all-powerful Dark One fretted over the girl who’d stolen his heart.   
  
Gaston was not surprised when she returned, but the monster was. Had he the ability, he would have laughed at the sight of the Dark One rushing into the great hall, full of frantic energy and nervous excitement. He watched as the man pretended not to be fazed by the return of his maid, and saw the sweet smile and blush that graced the girl’s features. He need not be human to see the attraction that had bloomed between beauty and beast was now something more. It was palpable, something he could almost feel and he resented the girl for offering her heart to the very creature that had ripped her from her life, her freedom. From him.  
  
He looked on, feeling rage though he knew not how a flower could feel so, as she leaned forward and tentatively touched her lips to the imps. It should have been his lips she kissed, but there she sat, saying something about “it working” and while Gaston would have preferred to be blind than to see such a horrid sight, he preferred the tender moment over the harsh and violent reaction that followed. The shouting, screaming, and later sounds of fragile glass objects shattering against the stone wall filled ears that were not really there.  
  
Gaston feared the worst had happened to his dear Belle.   
  
Sometime later, he knew not how much time had passed - nor how he had lived for so long - the two of them, Lady and monster entered the room that was still wrecked from the Dark One’s fit of rage. They did not speak, but instead began picking up pieces of broken glass and china, she not asking that he use magic to sort out the mess nor he offering. It seemed to be a silent truce, an agreement to pick up the physically shattered pieces in an attempt to mend the emotional ones, and Gaston could only watch in silence as they swept and cleaned together, neither saying a word but still expressing so much pain.  
  
He couldn’t help but hear the lengthy conversation they had once the great hall had been sorted. Belle asked questions, as she did, and Rumplestiltskin answered them solemnly. Gaston learned more about the creature than he ever cared to know, and though his words moved Belle’s heart, Gaston remained cold and unsympathetic to the monster’s plight.  
  
After that a peace fell over them all. Gaston’s petals continued to bloom and shine, Belle keeping him watered and trimmed and beautiful. She never asked about the rose, and it was obvious the magician would not offer her the information of who she was truly caring for.  
  
Time passed and he could still see, and he saw much. Soon the tentative skirting around each other turned into hesitant touches - hands brushing, fingers lingering, arms looped together. It was sickening for him, but he watched on, unable to do anything else.  
  
The hesitant touches then grew bold and soon fingers brushing turned into long embraces and intertwined fingers and caresses. It made him sick, but he was confined to this form and so he was forced to watch on as the fragile love that had been crushed in an instant slowly reformed and molded together into something strong, beautiful, and undeniable.   
  
He watched as those embraces and caresses become something else entirely and though they did not kiss - and not since that one disastrous attempt had they tried again - he watched as Rumplestitlskin frequently swept the blushing beauty into his arms and vanished in a swirl of violet smoke. They would not come down for hours after that and Gaston only noticed the time because a small clock sat on the mantle near the table where he resided, and he was still human enough to know what was keeping the master and mistress of the castle occupied for so long.  
  
And if he could, he would shudder in disgust.  
  
                                                ~000~

He remained, bright and lovely and blooming in the vase his fiancé provided for him. He had grown accustomed to this life, though he had not quite accepted it, but it was a comfortable existence and he supposed that his fate could have been much worse. He remembered tales of men becoming snails to be crushed by the Dark One’s boot and he supposed that a flower to adorn a dark room was not so bad as death. But still he suffered.

He remembered too; a life of gallantry and nobility and the prospect of earning eternal glory in the face of a terrible war. He’d been betrothed to a beautiful, but strange, girl, and everything had been perfect despite the horrors the land had endured.

Now he watched, helpless to do anything else, as the woman he was meant to have sat perched on the wooden table that was his domain, gasping and sighing as the monster indulged in what Gaston considered a vulgar activity. He was no fool and knew that Belle’s virtue had been tainted by the monster, but now he had no doubt of just how intimate they were with each other. He felt ill, as he watched the scene, and it wasn’t until later, when they’d abandoned the table in favor of sitting by the fire, a book in her hand, that he wondered just how he can feel so incredibly human despite what had happened to him.

Time passed. He could see from his perch on the table that the snow had melted and made way for the warm pleasantness of spring. Just as Belle had pulled the curtains away to allow light into the darkness that had been for so long, she now began to open the large paned windows to allow the fresh breeze to sweep into the vast room. It was pleasant, getting light and fresh air, Gaston thought, and where his bud had closed slightly during the chill of winter, he felt himself opening up again, the warmth of the sun filling his senses, such strange things they were now, and made the petals relax and fall open, revealing his beauty.

It was not long after that that Belle finally thought to ask what Gaston had considered to be the most obvious of questions.

“Rumple, love, is my rose enchanted?”

The imp glanced up from the wheel regard his lover, who was staring curiously at the rose he’d given her such a seemingly long time ago. Gaston knew, if he had breath, it would catch in the hope and excitement that perhaps this would be the end. She’d kept him watered and trimmed all this time, but never once had it occurred to her to ask about him. He wondered if his identity would be revealed. He wondered what he would do if he were returned to his natural state. Would he graciously flee? Would he try to convince the beauty to come with him, despite the undeniable fact that she was clearly happy here with the monster?    
  
The spinner stood and approached her, wrapping his arms around her endearingly. “I should probably have told you all ready,” he begins. “Since we’ve agreed to be honest with each other and all.”

Gaston waited with nervous anticipation as Rumplestiltskin admitted that the rose is indeed her former betrothed. Her gasp of horror was enough to make all the waiting worthwhile, and he could hardly believe it when she reached out to slap the all-powerful sorcerer.

“Rumplestiltskin!” She shouted. “How could you do that to him?”

She paused, her thoughts forming. “Can you change him back?”

“I could,” he admitted, “Though I’m not sure that would be wise.”

Gaston wished he could weep at those words.

“Why not?” Belle asked.

“Well, dearest, you cut off part of his stem. I’d say that would leave him with a nasty handicap should he be returned to his former state.”

Again, Belle gasped in horror. “How horrible,” she declared. “Is he conscious? Does he know he’s a rose?”  
  
“I don’t know, to be honest.”

Oh how he wished he could scream! Shout, yell, whisper, anything to inform them that he was still there; he was still Gaston no matter what form he took! His thoughts swirled and raged, and any contentment he’d felt for his situation melted away into anger and hatred for the horrid beast who’d done this to him. He cursed the foul creature’s name, though no one could hear him, and he waited angrily to see what the beauty would decide for him. His fate was in her delicate and corrupted hands.

And then those hands, the very ones that had embraced - loved - a monster, began to gently stroke his petals and it was such bliss. She was tender, as he’d always imagined she’d be, and he wished he could sigh for he’d gone without such affections for so long that he would willingly take it now, no matter who offered the gesture.

“What do you think we should do?” She asked. “I don’t want to just leave him here. He can’t be happy, even if he is just a rose now.”

Rumplestiltskin stood beside her, the two of them gazing at the rose quizzically. “We’ll do whatever you desire, dearest,” the imp declared. “He’s yours to do with as you wish.”

And Gaston had no choice but to agree with the beast. He only hoped she would be kind.   
  


                                                  ~000~  
  
In the end, she planted him outside in the garden. It was not long before he felt his roots begin to sprout and spread in the warm, soft dirt. It was still a lamentable fate, he decided, being a rose. But now he had a lovely garden to gaze upon, and he could hear the birds sing.  
  
And, he thought, if this was to be his fate, perhaps it was not so bad. He cannot speak nor move, but he does not have to see the love blooming between his former betrothed and the monster who stole her. He can suffer in his loneliness - and thrive in his garden- in peace.


	4. Behave

“Honestly, Rumple, I wish you wouldn’t be such a grouch about this,” Belle said as they walked arm in arm from the library to the diner. 

“I’m not being a grouch,” he grumbled, “I just don’t see why this is necessary.”

“We’re getting married, Rumple,” she sighed in exasperation. “It’s a tradition of this world for friends and family to throw a party give gifts to the bride and groom.” 

“We don’t  _need_  anything, though,” Rumplestiltskin protested. “My house has been furnished for the past twenty-eight years and I have more than enough money to buy what we don’t have already.” 

She sighed. “Rumple, that isn’t the point,” she said as she pulled on his arm to stop him. “Never mind that you have everything. Everyone wants to help us celebrate, and it’s sweet that they’re throwing us a shower.”

“They’re throwing  _you_  a shower, sweetheart,” he corrected. “I highly doubt they care one bit about me.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to face her fiance. “You’re being a grump,” she said, trying to keep her smile hidden. “Why are you so reluctant to accept gifts from anyone? They aren’t going to expect anything in return. That’s why it’s called a gift,” she teased and he couldn’t help but smile affectionately at her. 

“I’m not worried about that,” he said as he wrapped his free arm around her waist. “It’s just that I have everything I could ever want right here. I’ve no need for anything else, so long as you’re with me.”

She smiled at him sweetly and he bent his head down to give her a gentle kiss. When they finally broke away, she took his arm again, taking a step towards Granny’s diner. 

“If you aren’t fond of this shower,” she began idly, “You might be pleased to know that the girls have planned another shower for me the Saturday after next. Though you can’t come to that one.” 

“Why not?” He asked, slightly hurt that he wasn’t invited, despite all his protests to not be involved in such pointless pre-wedding activities. 

“Well, it’s for the girls only. Though, trust me. The gifts are as much for you as they are for me.” Then as an afterthought she added, “It’s a lingerie party; and I’ve overheard some of the girls describing what they got for me. I think you’ll be more than pleased.” 

He swallowed hard and glanced down at her, convinced she was joking. The look she gave him in return told him she wasn’t. 

“If you promise me you’ll be on your best behavior today,” she said sweetly, “I’ll model them all for you that night. And maybe let you take them off.” 

His cheeks were red but his eyes were wide and hungry as he took in her meaning. “I think,” he said, stopping and pulling her back to him so that he could lean dangerously close to her, “I’m beginning to see the point of all this after all.” 

Belle hummed in satisfaction before brushing her lips against his. “I knew you would.”


	5. To Encourage Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would you do then, to encourage affection?

**To Encourage Affection**

**Originally Posted to Tumblr for the one year anniversary of Rumbelle (Fluffapalooza 2013)**

 

“Will you just tell me what is going on?” Belle asked, exasperated at the man on the other end of the phone.   
  
“You’ll see what’s going on when you get here, sweetheart.” Gold said and his tone reminded Belle heavily of the imp she’d fallen in love with back at the Dark Castle.   
  
“So I can’t have  _any_  hints?” She said as she walked through the town toward his house.   
  
“No, you can’t have any hints,” he said.   
  
She smirked, “I could just turn around and go home. I’ve been itching to finish  _Pride and Prejudice_  all day.”   
  
Gold wasn’t buying that. “You’re far too curious for your own good, love. It’s already driving you mad that I won’t tell you anything.”   
  
She paused. “Fair enough.”   
  
“Besides,” Gold continued, “You’ve already seen the movie. You know what happens.”   
  
“My experience with movies made from books is that they hardly stay true to the source,” Belle countered.   
  
She reached his house finally, and stood at the edge of the porch. “I’m here, Rumple. Do I go in?”   
  
“Yes, love. Go on in and come out to the backyard.”   
  
“Okay,” she said as she walked up the steps and through the door. They were still on the phone, but neither spoke as she walked through the house and into the kitchen. She could see the backyard from there and her slight gasp and what she saw was exactly what Gold had wanted to hear.   
  
She hung up her phone and placed it on the counter before running into the backyard. All around her, white lights were strung up, and there were candles on every available flat surface.  Rose petals were scattered all over the ground and music was playing softly from some unknown source. And standing in the middle of it all was Mr. Gold, hands clasped in front of him, the cane no where in sight.   
  
She walked up to him slowly, tears in her eyes and whispered, “What’s all this for?”   
  
Gold smiled, a look that was reserved only for her and said, “I believe I heard somewhere that dancing is a wonderful way to ‘encourage affection’.”  
  
Belle looked concerned for a moment, and Gold wondered if this had been a bad idea. “What about your leg?” She whispered.   
  
He waved a hand dismissively, “I know you don’t like it, but I used a wee bit of magic to make the damn thing cooperate. Just for tonight.”   
  
She smiled at him again, and he took that to mean that she did not mind. The song that had been playing in the background changed, and a slow waltz began to play. Gold extended his hand. “May I have this dance, Ms. French?”   
  
She curtsied and took his hand, “You may, Mr. Gold.”   
  
He wrapped her in his arms and they began to waltz slowly in his backyard. Neither were particularly experienced in the style, but they were far to busy enjoying the moment to care about the actual steps.  
  
“I think this is a very good way to encourage affection,” Belle said sweetly.   
  
“Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable?” Gold quipped and Belle laughed.   
  
“Oh, Mr. Gold,” she said, pulling him closer to her, “I’d say you are  _very_  tolerable.”   
  
He kissed her then, deeply and lovingly, and they quickly decided that  _this_  was a much better way to show affection. 


	6. Well-Suited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is Gold's tailor. Pre-season 1

**Well-Suited**

_**Originally Published to Tumblr 2014** _

 

__

The door to Storybrooke Menswear opens, and all the workers scatter like rodents. Gold bites back the smirk that threatens to cross his face as he enters the establishment and glances around, seeking out the one person he knows will never hide from him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gold,” a lilting, accented voice calls from one of the many dressing rooms lining the back of the store.

“Good afternoon, Ms. French,” Gold replies, bowing his head in greeting. Isabel French walks forward, and Gold takes a moment to appreciate the view. She’s dressed sharply, ever the professional. Her black pencil skirt is tight, but not obnoxiously so, accentuating her curvy hips and slender waist while the loose yellow blouse hangs elegantly from her. It’s all brought together by a large black belt, black tights, and impressively tall black stilettos. Her hair is pulled back in a fashionable bun, with several curls hanging loose and shaping her face. She’s the picture of professional perfection: beautiful, well-dressed, and pleasant.

And she’s a damn good tailor, too.

She’s the only one in this establishment that Gold trusts. He’s been coming here for as long as he can remember, custom ordering suits and shirts and ties, and bringing nearly every person assigned to help him to tears. Ms. French is the only one who can seem to take his harsh criticisms with a grain of salt, and stitch up his clothing so well that he wonders if she uses magic.

She’s been his tailor for as long as he can remember. He’s their most faithful customer, and it had only been after he’d gone through every sales person on the floor that someone had the bright idea to force the head tailor into working with him. Mr. Gold is a man of impeccably high standards and so far, Ms. French has been the  _only_ one to meet them, both on the sales floor and in the fitting room. He’d thought it quite unprofessional at first for the manager of the store to shove the poor, clueless tailor into the proverbial lion’s den, but now he’s extremely glad of it. Ms. French is a miracle in four-inch heels, and she knows exactly how to make him the sharpest dressed man in all of Storybrooke (he’s always held that title, but now it’s set in stone. Or wool and cashmere.)

Ms. French stops in front of him, her shoes bringing her almost to his eye level. “What can I do for you today, Mr. Gold?” She asks, all smiles and politeness, and if it weren’t for the fact that Gold knows she’s just genuinely this friendly, he would be put off by the salesman-like aura she displays. But she’s not a salesperson. She’s the tailor, and the only one who can handle the store’s toughest (and best) customer. She handled him with ease the first time they met, when she’d presented him with a freshly tailored suit and requested he try it on. He’d expected there to be  _something_ wrong with it, but had been shocked to find that his every instruction and specification had been met with perfection.

Ms. French is the only one he’ll work with now. And no one seems inclined to protest. His frequent visits to the store mean quite the commission, but no one but Ms. French is willing to put up with him enough to earn it. It’s not that the job is  _that_ difficult, he thinks. It’s not as if the workers have to coddle or convince him to purchase their wares. He’s a guaranteed sale. But Ms. French is pulled away from her work to assist him and without the actual sales experience the others have, and since she has nothing to lose, she’s free to be as she wishes. And she’s always pleasant, articulate, and snarky.

She’s perfect, really.

“I’m looking for a new suit,” he begins and Ms. French giggles.

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve come to the right place, but I’ll see what I can do.”

He gives her a dry look, though he can’t deny he loves it when she lets her sarcasm fly. None of the other sales associates in this store would ever speak to him in such a manner, and while he normally revels in striking fear in all those he comes into contact with, there’s something about Ms. French that makes him want to inspire smiles and laughter instead. It’s a strange sort of power she has over him, and he can’t quite explain it or understand it, but he likes it.

She smiles and tilts her head back toward one of the fitting rooms. "I know you typically want something custom, but a suit came in stock the other day that I think you’ll like,” she says as she begins to walk away. “If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to see what you think of it.”

Gold is not a pre-made suit man. He likes everything to be decidedly unique. His. It’s one of the reasons he comes to this establishment; this is the only place in Storybrooke that is capable of making his suits from scratch. And so it’s on the tip of his tongue to decline, and instead go through the lengthy process of selecting custom pieces. But for some reason, he feels inclined to trust Ms. French today. It’s not as if anyone else in this provincial town will be able to tell whether or not the suit is bespoke.

“You’ve yet to lead me astray,” Gold remarks casually, “So I’m afraid I have no choice but to trust you.”

“That’s because I’m perfectly  _suited_  for my job.”

His eyes slip shut and he sighs at her pun. He will never admit he finds it funny, and instead holds out his hand. “Just give me the suit.”

She positively beams at his agreement and quickly pulls out the suit and hands it to him. She steps aside so he can enter the dressing room. He comes out a few minutes later, and makes his way carefully onto the stand before the large and imposing three-way-mirrors. Belle busies herself with clipping the suit from the back, as well as the pants, so that Gold can see what it will look like when properly fitted to his frame.

As she works, she tells him about it, “It’s crepe, 100% virgin wool with an optical pattern. Single breasted.” She brushes off his shoulders and adjusts the jacket so it sits properly. “This is a steel grey, which I think looks quite dashing on you, personally. It’s dark and professional, but adds a bit of flair.”

“Because I’m _so_  concerned about flair,” Gold retorts, grunting when Ms. French lightly smacks him with the lint brush she’s holding.

“You should be,” she chides him gently, “It reflects badly on me otherwise. You may want someone’s first thought when they see you to be ‘oh shit!’ but I want their second thought to be, ‘damn, he looks  _good_. I wonder where he gets his suits?’”

Gold rolled his eyes, “Using me to get more business, Ms. French? I’m not sure I appreciate being your walking billboard.”

“Well, no one else here can make your suits to your specifications. So, you either have to be my billboard or let someone else do the work. I would recommend Anna.” She grins smugly and Gold suddenly has the urge to kiss her. He shakes away that notion quickly, instead choosing to focus on the horrific thought of Ms. French’s assistant butchering his suit. It isn’t that Anna Fisher is a  _bad_ tailor, it’s just that Gold wouldn’t let her near his suits with a thirty foot pole.

He sneers, “I suppose I’m resigned to be your personal walking display, then.”

“You love it and you know it,” Ms. French teases as she helps him remove the suit jacket. “Shall I call this a success?”

Gold sighs and nods, “Very well.”

Belle grins and giggles. “Great! Now, you can’t have a new suit without a new shirt and tie.”

“Trying to get me to spend all my money, Ms. French?“ He asks as he lets her drag him to a table where they can discuss the style, color, and fabric of the shirt that will be custom made for him. Gold browses idly, knowing that in a few moments Ms. French will offer her opinion, which he will immediately turn down. It’s one thing to let her pick a suit for him; blacks, greys, and navy blues are the only real colors he has to choose from (there are more, but both he and Ms. French have a deep aversion to them) and so there isn’t much room for her to experiment.

With shirts, it’s an entirely different playing field. She wants to put him in bright colors and patterns while he’s insistent on darker jewel tones and solids. He’ll listen to her explain why he needs to broaden his horizons, then he’ll simply point to the selections he’s already decided upon and watch as she pouts and glares as she takes his measurements to make sure her file is kept up to date. It’s a long, but enjoyable process, and making Ms. French annoyed is almost more pleasurable than purchasing a new suit.

They sit and debate, this time for close to half an hour as Ms. French does her best to convince him that a blue striped shirt with a deep purple and blue patterned tie is the best course of action. But they both know how this goes, how it’s always gone, and so he declines her suggestion. She pouts, and Gold notices for the first time just how adorable she looks. It’s a shocking realization, and he pushes it aside to dwell on later.

He points to a navy swatch and raises his eyebrow at Ms. French, daring her to challenge him. She glares and murmurs, “Stubborn man,” before waiting for him to select the all the other details that will go into the shirt. He never changes these, but he points out what he wants regardless, Ms. French taking notes all the while. Finally, he’s chosen every detail from collar to cuffs to placket, and Ms. French motions for him to stand. She measures him, the numbers always the same and offers him a smile. “I should have this ready for you in about two weeks,” she said as leads him to the dressing room. “I’ll call you when it’s ready?”

He nods. He loves it when she calls, even if it is only to tell him he can come back. But her voice is so sweet and pleasant, and she’s the only one who speaks to him as if he isn’t a monster.

“Sounds wonderful,” he says and he wonders if he imagined the flush that colored her cheeks.

~000~

When she calls, he drops everything and goes to the store immediately. It’s not that he cares so much about the suit; he’s known for a while now it hasn’t been about the suits. It’s about the pleasant company of Ms. French and her ability to make him feel human. He relishes these moments, even if they probably mean nothing more to her than another hefty commission.

When he arrives, she greets him as usual and leads him to the fitting room. He takes the suit and shirt and tries them on, not a bit surprised when  _everything_ is perfect. He steps out and Belle checks him over, humming in satisfaction when she finds nothing wrong as well.

“As usual,” she declares, “I’m a miracle worker.”

“Indeed you are,” he agrees before turning back to the room to change. When he emerges, she takes the suit and escorts him to the counter where one of the sales girls rings him up. She stays the entire time, talking with him as he pays for his purchase. When finished, he turns to her and bids her a good day. She smiles and touches his arm before returning the sentiment, then disappears into her work room. Gold takes his purchase and makes his way back to his shop.

She isn’t scared of him, he thinks with relief. In fact she seems  _fond_  of him. He’d forgotten what it was like to be treated like a normal man, and as he steps into his shop, thinking of the closet full of suits and shirts and ties, it’s almost flooring to realize just how deep his feelings go. He likes to look his best, but that’s hardly why he keeps going back to Storybrooke Menswear. It’s because he’s in love with Isabel French. He’s in love with his beautiful little tailor, and he groans as he realizes just how pathetic he really is. 

~000~

Once he accepts his feelings for Ms. French (he can’t bring himself to call her Isabel. It’s a lovely name, but it has never sounded  _quite_ right) it’s hard for their meetings to go as they had before. They’ve always been pleasant and enjoyable, but now he’s suddenly  _very_  aware of her hands, tugging on fabric, stitching up seams, measuring (and oh God when she measures his inseam it’s the most erotic and tortuous thing ever and he’s long since decided that being turned on by a woman  _measuring him_ is not borderline pathetic. It’s several miles  _over_ the border.) But it’s all he has, and all he will allow himself to have, so he puts on a brave face and tries to think of all manner of unpleasant things while Ms. French’s hands busily touch and brush over him.

He starts simply ordering new shirts, simply because he already has a suit for nearly every day of the month. It’s absurd, but he knows of no other way to spend time with her. She must think him terribly wasteful and vain for how often he comes to see her and he begins to wonder if he’s incredibly obvious. No one needs as many suits and shirts as he has. He decides to infrequent his visits; as rich as he is, he really can’t afford to buy out the  _entire_ store just to see her.  

That plan utterly fails, however, as he finds himself visiting Storybrooke Menswear just as frequently as ever. Sometimes more. He comes in for a new shirt or tie nearly every three weeks, and for a new suit every other month. His closet is overflowing, and he has to move some of his least favorite suits to a closet in one of his guest rooms. He’s gone beyond absurd and pathetic to downright preposterous. But for all his seemingly obvious insanity, Ms. French says nothing. She doesn’t complain with his increased visits, though he knows she’s busy enough without his constant appearance. Regardless, however she always greets him with a smile (and those damned heels which accentuate lovely legs he wants nothing more than to have wrapped around him).

Where before their conversations always stayed the same, now he ventures other topics, trying to find out more about Ms. French. She talks readily about whatever he asks her, and even manages to get him to talk about his pawn shop, interests, and a variety of other topics. Their conversations aren’t deep, but to Gold they mean everything. Every bit of herself that she gives him he takes eagerly, and he tries his best to be open with her as well. She never asks him why he come so much, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he’ll have to confess why. She can’t believe he enjoys clothes shopping this much, and despite all the money she earns from his commissions, he can’t imagine she’s be too impressed with a man who wastes all his money on suits. No, he really is going to have to think of something else. Short conversations during a fitting are hardly ideal.

Asking her out is out of the question. Her attention may be entirely on him during their fittings, but he is well aware of the odd looks Ms. French receives while she’s with him. If her fellow employees can’t be professional enough to hide their distaste for their relationship (such as it is) then he can’t expect the rest of Storybrooke to be much more accommodating. No, it‘s safer inside the walls of Storybrooke Menswear, where she can’t be hurt by the condemning stares of others. It’s not ideal, and he feels his resolve crumble a little with every visit, but he doesn’t ask.

He knows he can’t keep up the charade, and so he begins to think of new reasons to see her. And for all his trying, he can think of no reason why he would show up to her workplace, other than to purchase something. He doesn’t own the building, so he can’t use rent as an excuse. Eventually he gets the bright idea to come to her for mending. But he’s a careful man, and Ms. French’s work is first class. None of his suits are anywhere close to needing repair. Finally, after a three weeks of not seeing her, he caves and purposely rips the leg of one of his least favorite suit pants, and calls Ms. French to set up an emergency appointment. When he enters the shop, Ms. French is upon him in an instant. "What’s the emergency?” She asks, brow creased slightly.

He holds up the garment bag. “Seems even I can have a mishap every now and then."   
  
Ms. French takes the bag and unzips it, mouth forming an 'o’ in surprise. "Mr. Gold,” she says, looking up at him with a soft smile, “An emergency of this degree doesn’t warrant an appointment. If this ever happens again, don’t call. Just come by. I can spare a few minutes to take care of you.”

It shouldn’t have sounded so utterly sensual, but Gold feels himself biting the inside of his jaw to keep from groaning. She is a  _professional,_  he reminds himself for the thousandth time. Besides, he wouldn’t appreciate it if she came on to him so blatantly in his place of business. (Oh who was he kidding? He would  _love_ it.)

She beckons him with her finger and they make their way back to her workroom. It’s the first time he’s actually been in here. Their normal appointments tend to stay on the showroom floor and the fitting rooms. He’s never entered her personal space before and it’s a bit jarring to see where she creates the artwork that are his suits. He glances around, taking stock of everything. There is a small closet toward the back of the room filled with garment bags, no doubt for other customers. Gold feels a surge of jealousy flow through him. Granted, it’s irrational for him to assume that he is Ms. French’s only customer, but part of him suddenly wonders if she treats anyone else with the same care she does him. Naturally, she isn’t a salesperson and has little interaction with customers when she isn’t measuring them. Gold shudders. That certainly isn’t helping matters.

He tries to get his mind off that and instead glances around more, taking in the numerous rows of fabrics, colored thread, and designs plastered on the wall. It’s all very organized, just like he thought she’d be. There are mannequins lining the walls, each with suits in various stages of completion, and it’s a real sight to see the process in which his suits are made. So distracted is he by taking in her private space, he fails to notice her moving until she is right in front of him, too close for comfort, but not close enough to please him.

“All better,” she says with a smile. He nods in thanks and takes the bag from her. “Luckily it was ripped at the seam, so it was a perfectly easy fix. Do you want to try them on?” She asks, her voice high, “Just to make sure I didn’t screw them up?”

His instinct is to say no. He trusts her ability to fix a small rip, but then he takes a moment to actually  _think_ and realizes that it will give him a few extra minutes with her. “I think I will,” he says neutrally, silently praising himself for not sounding as lovesick as he feels. He tries them on and does his best not to focus too much on the fact that Belle is kneeling before him, touching his leg. He bites his lip to keep himself from sighing at her touch, though she’s barely doing anything. Finally she stands and nods at him in satisfaction. “Perfect,” she declares as she steps out of the way so he can inspect the repair himself. He stares at the pants leg, and he honestly can’t tell where he ripped them. She really is good.

He tells her as much, trying to sound dry and droll, but she still flushes at his praise and it’s all Gold can do to keep from reaching out and touching those lovely pink cheeks. He changes again, half fantasizing the whole time about Belle slipping into the changing room with him and engaging in….less than professional behavior. But she never comes (and he needs to) so he drapes the garment bag in such a way that his arousal is hidden and bids Ms. French a good day.   
  
It’s no longer an option. He knows he’s going to have to do something about his feelings for Ms. French. And  _soon._

It’s to the point now where he thinks about her at all times. And how can he not? He’s draped in her handiwork, a real walking billboard of her artistic greatness. Everything he owns as far as outerwear goes has been touched by Ms. French, and he’s keenly aware of it. He can’t dress or undress without thinking about her, and has even considered agreeing to the shirt she suggests the next time he shops. He wants to let her choose, but its’ a game between them. He never accepts her suggestions and she keeps trying, knowing one day she’ll wear him down.

She doesn’t know that she already has. As he selects his shirt for the day he imagines a day when she’ll be responsible for picking out  _all_ his shirts, and he’ll only pretend to be annoyed by her selections. He imagines a day when they’re both late for work because she enjoys  _unbuttoning_ his shirts rather than leaving them buttoned. He imagines these things so often that when the reality sets in that he’s still just the grumpy pawn broker and she's  _only_  his tailor, he becomes rather depressed. It’s not fair, he thinks.

~000~

He needs another shirt like he needs a hole in the head. But he enters Storybrooke Menswear once again, on the pretense that he’s a vain asshole who enjoys buying clothing for himself. They have an appointment, as usual, but he frowns when he realizes Ms. French is nowhere in sight. He stands idly by the entrance, waiting and ignoring the fearful looks of the other workers. He glances down at his watch: It’s time for their appointment, two o’clock sharp, and she hasn’t greeted him yet.

He knows logically that she’s probably busy. But he also knows Ms. French, and she’s never kept him waiting. He’s always been a first priority, and he feels worry sprout in his stomach that something has happened. He’s about to cave and inquire after his tailor when he hears her pretty laughter flutter from the fitting rooms. He lets out a relieved breath at the sound, only to inhale with acute anger at the sound of a  _man_ laughing with her.

This will not do.

He limps toward the back, his face tightening even further when he sees Ms. French kneeling before another man, measuring his inseam and talking jovially. Gold’s grip around the handle of his cane tightens as he watches. He knows it means nothing. He knows it’s her job.  But now he knows he’s nothing special. She treats him the way she treats any gentleman who enters this establishment: kind, sweet, and perfect.   
  
Gold thinks he’s a fool for ever thinking he might be different. He’s Mr. Gold, after all. And Mr. Gold is unlovable. Even to someone as gentle and understanding as Isabel French.

He needs to leave. This is too much for his wounded pride and he suddenly has no desire to talk color swatches and placket designs. He turns to walk away and close up shop early so he can drown in self-pity and his finest scotch. He only manages a couple steps before he hears Ms. French’s lilting voice call out, “Mr. Gold!” He turns, deliberately slowly, and tries his best to look completely uninterested.

“We had an appointment,” he says sharply. “But it seems you’re otherwise occupied. So since you  _clearly_ have more important things to do, I’ll just be on my way.”

Ms. French blinks at him, then turns to the other man, “Can you excuse me for just a moment, Mr. Gaston?” The man nods, trying not to look at Mr. Gold. Gold feels a sense of smug satisfaction that he can scare the fool boy who is taking up his time with  _his_ tailor. But then she’s grabbing his hand, and dragging him past the other man and into her work room. She pushes him inside, then stalks in behind him and slams the door shut.

“What is your problem?”

Gold blinks. He’s never seen this side of Ms. French before, and he’s not sure he likes it. He knows it was wrong to upset her in such a way, but he tries to justify it by remembering just how  _awful_ he feels.

“I have an appointment-” he starts weakly.

“Oh, bullshit,” she snaps. “I  _know_ you had an appointment. But you know what else?  _I_ have a job to do. And my assistant  _and_ one of the sales girls are out sick today, so I’m stuck trying to do my job, my assistant’s job  _and_ be a salesperson, and now you show up acting personally  _offended_  when I’m helping someone else.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, “You do realize I’m not your servant, right? I know I’m the only one willing to work with you but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a-“

"Have dinner with me.”

The both freeze. He knows he has a look of horror on his face, only matched by the absolute shock on her own.  

“What?”

Gold sighs. Nothing for it now, he supposes. At least he has plenty of suits and shirts to last a lifetime. He doubts he’ll be able to show his face in here after this. But he goes ahead, knowing he doesn’t have much more to lose.

“I don’t need all these suits,” he says, pulling gently at the bottom of his suit jacket. “And you’re certainly not my servant. It’s just….how else am I to see you? I know our appointments are nothing more to you than your job, and I don’t begrudge you that at all. It’s just…you-“

He sighs again and looks down. He can’t meet her eyes anymore because everything he’s saying is just sad. It’s true, and that makes it sadder, and he wishes she’d grab his cane from him and bash him in the head so he can forget this ever happened. “You’re kind. And caring. And beautiful. And you have never been anything but professional. But I’m quite fond of you, Ms. French. Our encounters are the only time I feel even remotely human, and I would like to see you outside of discussing suit options. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

Ms. French regards him, looking stunned. The long, unsettling pause is enough to make him squirm, but her gaze is even more troublesome. It’s on the tip of his tongue to apologize; to say he shouldn’t have said anything and he’ll take his business elsewhere so he doesn’t bother her anymore. But then she smiles at him. It’s not her usual smile, large and toothy, but is instead small and hesitant. It gives him hope and he can’t resist the urge to step closer to her.

"Okay.”

He blinks, and the spell is broken. “What?”

She giggles and steps to him, reaching out to lay her hand over the one that’s got a white-knuckled grip on his cane. “I'd  _love_ to have dinner with you,” she says softly. She leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek, “Tonight?”

Gold nods dumbly. She steps away and gestures to the door behind her. “I need to go finish my appointment,” she says, “But you’re welcome to stay for ours if you like.” She giggles and he is so elated he doesn’t have the decency to be embarrassed by her teasing.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” He manages.

She nods in acceptance and turns to the door. Pausing, she glances back and says, “It’s about time you asked me.“ Then she’s gone and Gold is left standing in her work room, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he has a  _date_  with Isabel French.   
  
~000~

He picks her up right on time, and stands staring wide-eyed at how amazing she looks. He’s so used to seeing her hair up in high ponytails or simple buns that he’d never thought about what she might look like otherwise. Her hair cascades down over her shoulders in long, thick curls, and the dress she’s wearing is short and flowing, with thin straps that leave her shoulders and legs bare. It’s all Gold can do to keep from gawking, but Belle seems pleased with his reaction and giggles. She’s wearing a pair of nude heels, and while they aren’t as high as her usual shoes, Gold still can’t help but appreciate them.

He’d decided after he left that afternoon that he’d pull out all the stops. So he presents her with a bouquet of roses, takes her to the nicest restaurant in Storybrooke, and does his best not to let the stares of the others present ruin his good mood. And once he and Ms. French are seated, everyone else melts away into oblivion, and all he can focus on is her.

And to his surprise, their date goes better than Gold even dared dream. They enjoy dinner while she teases him about his vast collection of clothing, and she laughs at the quips he fires back at her. When dinner ends, they walk down Main Street, her hand in his. He can hardly believe how well it’s going, and judging from her flirtatious smiles at him, he thinks she’s having a good time too. She invites him up to her flat when the evening is done and he follows her dumbly up the stairs. He experiences his fantasy of having her unbutton his shirt that night, and the reality is so much better than he ever thought possible.

After that night, he stops frequenting Storybrooke Menswear. Now he frequents her home. She begins coming by his pawn shop on her short breaks to have lunch with him, and they spend their evenings together at his house. He only visits her store on infrequent occasions now, but neither of them mind. He has plenty of clothing and he has her. Gold needs nothing else. Instead, he lavishes her with flowers and books (somehow it seems just right that she is a bookworm, though he can’t quite place  _why_ he feels that way) and revels in his happiness.

Nothing else changes, however. Storybrooke is still a sleepy town where nothing much happened. His relationship with Isabel had been quite the piece of gossip, but he’s too busy enjoying his relationship and scaring his tenants into paying their rent on time to truly care. Let them talk.

For their six month anniversary, he makes an appointment for a purchase at Storybrooke Menswear and sneaks her into the dressing room with him.  It’s a ridiculous fantasy he’s harbored since before they started seeing each other, and though it isn’t the most comfortable or ideal place to be intimate, he likes knowing that his sweet little Isabel (as he now calls her, despite it still not sounding quite right) will never be able to enter that room again without thinking about him. To make him pay for surprising her at work like that – because she insists on being a professional while she’s there - she makes him buy an entire new outfit.   
  
He happily pays the price.

~000~

Three weeks before their one year anniversary (though he swears no time has passed at all) he enters the shop with a sly smirk. Ms. French approaches him with her four-inch heels and professional smile, though the look in her eyes is absolutely, singularly for him and not at all work appropriate.

"What can I do for you today, Mr. Gold?” She asks, her smile growing larger as he stares at her playfully. No one else would be able to tell, but Isabel knows him better than anyone, and she can see the mischievous gleam in in his eyes.

“I’m in need of a new suit,” he says stoically. Ms. French raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m happy to help you,” she says. She’s the only one who has ever been happy to be with him. He wants it no other way. She leads him to the back and they begin the very familiar process of looking at fabrics and colors. “Is there a special occasion? Or are you just looking to make a normal purchase?”

Gold tries to remain placid; they’re playing a game, like they used to when he would ignore her suggestions when picking out his shirts. “It’s a very special occasion, actually,” he says, leaning back in his chair. Ms. French looks up and smiles mischievously.

“Oh?” She asks. He nods.

“My one year anniversary is coming up soon,” he says nonchalantly, “I’m planning  _quite_  the romantic evening.”

“Then you  _must_ look your best,” Ms. French says professionally, despite the blush on her cheeks. “Which is why, I’m sure, you came to me.”

“Of course,” Gold agrees. “However, my significant other has told me on  _several_  occasions that my attire doesn’t present much….flair. Perhaps you could assist me in that area?”

Isabel looks at him in surprise and the act instantly drops. “You’re letting me choose?” She asks breathlessly.

Gold nods and leans forward. “Happy early anniversary, sweetheart,” he says, taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Pick anything you want; I’ll wear it.”

Isabel positively glows in excitement, then promptly kicks him out of the store. “It’s a surprise,” she decides. When he mentions that she hasn’t taken his measurements yet, she forgoes decency and kisses him hard, right in front of everyone. “I’ll get that tonight.”

She won’t let him see her choice until the day of their anniversary, which unfortunately falls on rent day. Gold is annoyed that he hadn’t realized this sooner, and calls Isabel to apologize for his mistake. She shrugs it off, completely understanding and perfect as always, and tells him to come by early to pick up his suit. They agree to meet after he’s finished in front of his shop and he hangs up, after promising her the night of her life.    
  
He collects as much rent as possible that afternoon, but time still gets away from him. He does as much as he can, then finally makes his way to Storybrooke Menswear. He enters and Isabel practically tackles him in her excitement. She drags him to the fitting rooms, then slips in silently after him. She helps him out of his clothes, something he very much enjoys, then stands back and admires him as he dresses in her creation.

She could have forced him to wear  _anything_ , he thinks. He’d promised her he would wear whatever she chose for him, and though he never doubted she’d be so cruel as to put him in a polka dots or a sky blue suit, he has to admit he’s utterly surprised by her choice.   
  
It’s a tasteful solid black suit, in the same virgin wool he favors. The shirt is a surprise, because he was sure she’d choose some wild color or pattern. Instead, it’s a black and white gingham pattern, contrasted against a black two-toned tie. It’s subdued, but still has the flair he expected her to achieve. The pocket handkerchief is a small mix of colors, which he personally doesn’t think matches, but he trusts his lovely Isabel. It’s not as formal as his other shirts, and if he’s honest, it’s not something he would have ever chosen on his own, but if this is what she wants him to wear on their anniversary, then he’ll wear it with pride.   
  
And he has to admit, he thinks as he admires himself in the mirror, he does looks rather dashing.

He decides to keep it on; there’s no use going through the trouble of changing (and at any rate, Isabel’s constant distracting has made him lose valuable time) so he kisses her and takes his leave. He only has three stops to make, and he hopes his tenants will be quick about giving him their rent so he can be on his way. He’s eager to romance his Isabel, and the small box he managed to transfer from his other suit pocket to this one is starting to weigh heavy. He enters the last place of the evening, Granny’s Bed and Breakfast and winces as if he’s been shot when he hears a blonde stranger in front of him declare, “Swan. Emma Swan.”

Suddenly a rush of memories invade his mind and he thanks all his years of being a showman that he’s able to hide the absolute shock he feels. He’s not John Gold, pawnbroker and lover of Ms. Isabel French, the best tailor in the state. He’s Rumplestiltskin. He’s here because he’s trying to find his son. And  _Belle_ is alive.

And she’s waiting on him to romance her in the suit she personally picked out for him.   
  
He collects the money in a daze, compliments  _Emma,_ then leaves. He can do nothing about Bae at the moment. The curse needs to be broken first and that will take time. Tonight, however, he has a date with his True Love, and he’s already kept her waiting long enough. When he sees her, he can’t help but sweep her into his arms and kiss her hard. When they part, he hands her the single red rose he’d purchased on the way to meet her. She takes it gratefully and smiles dazedly at him, before reaching up to adjust his tie. He steps back and spreads his arms out.

“Well, what do you think, sweetheart?”

She grins at him and pulls him back to her. “I think it suits you.” She laughs at her joke and Gold laughs with her. The sound is positively impish. 


	7. Bear His Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow and Charming have a question for Rumple.

**Bear His Name**

_**Originally Posted to Tumblr 2014** _

 

The bell to his shop jingled merrily, which only caused him to groan in frustration. He’d come by the shop to get a bit of work finished before Belle joined him to finalize their plans for an impromptu wedding. Neither had desired much pomp and circumstance, and so they were ignoring all the customs of both worlds for the sake of simplicity and privacy. After all that had happened, he just wanted the solace and security of having her with him. A simple enough desire, so he hoped. 

Deciding to quickly get rid of whoever was bothering him, Rumple walked slowly toward the front. He’d only been free a day and already someone needed his services. Again. A small part of him, a small, secret part that he’d never even reveal to Belle, wished he’d never been brought back. He’d been at peace, but as usual, that peace had been short lived.  _Like now,_ he mused. 

He repressed another groan when he saw Charming and Snow standing before him, Snow cradling their newborn son in her arms protectively. Rumple looked at the child for a moment, remembering his own precious boy, now lost to him forever, and sighed wearily. 

“With all due respect, Your Majesties,” he began, “I’m tired, and would like to postpone any and all requests until at least tomorrow.” 

Charming glanced at Snow, who wore motherhood with an elegance and grace befitting the queen she was. She looked beautiful, Rumple noted absently. Motherhood suited her, and the glow that radiated around her was something he couldn’t help but admire. Despite his frustrations with the young couple before him, they were wonderful parents and he had every confidence that their child would know nothing but the greatest and truest love. It hurt to think about, but he did not begrudge them their happiness. They’d never known their daughter. He at least had the comfort of knowing his own son before everything had gone to hell. The only memory Snow White had of Emma as a child was the memory of her being ripped from her arms. They had time now, but watching your child grow is a precious and beautiful thing and a small part of him regretted his part in this lovely young woman missing out on watching her daughter grow up. 

“We’ll be quick,” Charming promised, his arm wrapped protectively around his family, “We just have one thing we’d like to ask you, then we’ll leave you in peace.” 

Rumple nodded wearily. “Very well.” 

Snow stepped forward and presented the baby to him. Rumple glanced down at the sleeping child, and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Handsome young man,” Rumple said softly, “He has his mother’s chin.” 

Snow’s eyes sparkled in amusement, then she sobered, cleared her throat and spoke, “I know this may be…too soon,” she began carefully, “But Charming and I have been talking - well, arguing, mostly - about what to name him. Nothing has sounded quite right, except for one name.” 

Rumple eyed her curiously, a strange knot forming in his stomach, “Yes?” 

He watched as tears began to form in Snow’s eyes, and had it been anyone else, he would have believed they were doing it for show. But he knew Snow White. He knew Mary Margaret. She was as sincere as they came, and she wasn’t trying to play him. She wasn’t trying to manipulate him with false emotions to get something from him. She was a mother and whatever she was about to say, was clearly something she didn’t take lightly.“ 

"With your blessing, we’d like to name him Neal.” 

Some part of him had known. Yet it didn’t stop his heart from breaking or his knees from giving out on him. He started to sink, but felt a strong hand gripping him, keeping him upright, and glanced over to see Charming holding him up. Charming offered him a small smile, one that spoke of the same understanding Rumple saw in Snow’s eyes. Charming had been one of the few people to accept him. Not entirely, not like Belle, but Rumple recalled briefly their conversation about love in the Enchanted Forest many years ago. He recalled asking this man for dating advice, and remembered with bittersweet amusement that Charming had acted as a ‘wing man’ for him. Rumple had grown to respect this man, and he realized he also respected Snow. For all their sappy 'I will always find you’ nonsense, they were devoted and loving and true.

And they wanted to name their son after his. 

He managed to right himself, and Charming let go but stood close by just in case. Rumple straightened his jacket, then looked between them, then down at the child. 

“Why?” He managed, unable to say anything else in his shock. Snow offered him another tearful smile. 

“We didn’t know Baelfire. But we knew Neal. And he was a good man, Rumplestiltskin. He took care of Emma. He loved her and Henry. He made it possible for Emma to find us again. He sacrificed himself for us. "She glanced tearfully at Charming, then continued, "He’s everything we want our son to aspire to be: A true hero.” 

Rumple clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob. All the pain of losing his son hit him like a punch to the gut, and he shut his eyes to force himself to calm down. When he opened them again, Snow was watching him expectantly, gently but absently rocking the boy who opened his own eyes and looked around curiously. Rumple lowered his hand and reached out slowly, smiling sadly when the boy grabbed tightly onto his finger. 

“I’d be honored,” he whispered, “To have your son bear my son’s name.”

 

Snow White grinned in delight, and she reached out with the arm not holding her son to wrap around Rumplestiltskin’s neck. He stiffened, the memories of Zelena touching him against his will fresh in his mind. He shook those thoughts away - Zelena was gone. He rested one hand on her back, keeping a clear distance out of discomfort and a desire not to squish the boy between them. Snow stepped away after a moment and looked at Charming. He held out his hand, which Rumple shook with more ease than he’d hugged Snow. 

“I didn’t know him well,” Charming said, keeping a firm grip on Rumple’s hand, “But in the few interactions I had with him, I saw how full of love he was for his family,” he paused, then added with a knowing look, “Our family.” 

Rumple nodded mutely, his mastery of words failing him in such a tender and emotional moment. He looked away, checking his emotions, then back to Snow. “Thank you.” 

She shook her head and said, “Thank  _you_ , Rumplestiltskin.” 

She gave him the time of the party in which they would reveal their son’s name and told him to pass the invitation along to Belle. “I’ll be there,” Rumple promised, “ _We_ will be there.” 

The couple nodded, and with one last look, they exited the shop quietly, the little bell jingling once before the pawn shop filled with silence. Rumplestiltskin let out a shuddering breath, then returned to the back room. He opened a cupboard and pulled out Bae’s shawl. He brought it to his nose, inhaling the now faint scent of his son, then buried his face in the rough wool. “Bae,” he murmured, “Neal. My precious boy.” 

A few tears strayed from his eyes onto the shawl, and Rumple pulled out a handkerchief to wipe at the rest of them. He shook his head, regaining the composure he’d mastered as Mr. Gold, and gently placed the shawl back in the cupboard. Turning, he sat at the spinning wheel and picked up a spool of thread, studying it carefully. Belle wasn’t due for another hour, which was more than enough time for him to work on a matching shawl for little Prince Neal. After all, Storybrooke, Maine was a cold place, and Rumple knew a good shawl was the best way to ward off the chill. 


	8. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple can't sleep. Rated M.

**Sleepless**

_**Originally Posted to Tumblr 2014** _

 

  
He can’t sleep.

It’s not an unusual occurrence for him, not sleeping. He is the Dark One after all and a Dark One on a mission to find his long-lost son and doesn’t have time for foolish things such as  _sleep_.

But even the all-powerful Dark One cannot forever go without rest. He has potions that energize him and keep him awake, but once they wear off he feels himself becoming sluggish and unfocused. And so he takes another potion and begins the cycle again until he quite literally collapses somewhere, leaving his little maid to figure out what to do with him.

And apparently - after several months of discovering him sprawled on the floor, or draped over his spinning wheel, or asleep at the table, his meal untouched - his little maid has had enough.

She finds him sitting at the wheel, his hand clutching a spool of wool and his head swaying and drooping. Everything else about him is rigid and straight and she knows he is fighting to stay awake. But it’s a fight he will ultimately lose, as he always does, and she is not going to just drape a blanket over him and wait for him to wake up. No, she’s going to ensure he gets a proper night’s rest. In his bed. Even if she has to sleep next to him to make sure it happens.

Which in the end, after shouting and arguing with him, is exactly what happens.

They retreat to his chambers where, after they’ve dressed for bed and settled awkwardly between the sheets, Belle falls asleep. She is mortal; human. She has no magic to keep her from needing routine rest and after a long day of chores, she is in desperate need of sleep.

Rumplestiltksin thinks as tired as he is - because Belle is right; he’s  _exhausted_ \- he should be able to follow her with no problem. But she’s so close and lovely and tempting and he has no idea how she managed to convince him to share a bed with her. He’d given every excuse he could think of: He claimed he wasn’t tired. His heavy eyelids quickly betrayed him. He said it wasn’t her responsibility to look after him. She told him that her deal was to be his caretaker and she was going to do her job and take care of him no matter what. He told her it wouldn’t be proper for them to share a bed.

"Since when has anything about our situation been deemed ‘proper’?” She asked, a laugh escaping her lips. And so he’d given in. The allure of sleep - in a bed….with Belle - too much for his sleep deprived mind to resist.

And yet now they were here and he could not sleep.

He shuts his eyes and tries to focus on Belle’s breathing. It is soft and steady and she’s so peaceful and lovely. And he lets his mind wander in addition to his eyes and soon his innocent thoughts of her loveliness turn into thoughts he  _does not_ need to be having about his maid.  Hoping to fall asleep, he rolls onto his side and tries the old fashioned method of counting sheep.   
  
He reaches 1000 and gives up.

Finally, he rolls over again, his eyes falling on Belle’s soft cheeks. The temptation to reach out and touch her is too great but he finds the strength to resist. He hasn’t been this close to her since he caught her and until this moment he’d been certain he’d never feel her so close to him again.   
  
And then she shifts and rolls closer to him and drapes her arm across his chest. Stunned and trying to ignore the shock that traveled through him at the sensation, he shifts, planning to move her from him. She shifts again and clings closer to him and Rumplestiltskin is too tired to fight her. He doesn’t  _want_ to fight her anymore. He’s spent so long fighting - himself, the odds of never finding his son, everyone who wanted something from him - that he realizes he is more than physically tired. He needs rest. He needs something like this. The comfort of another, a treasure he’s long since been denied.

He lays awake, one hand at his side, the other carefully and barely resting against her back. He can’t  sleep. Not with the entirely unfamiliar - but oh so pleasant and desired - sensation of Belle’s body pressed to his. It’s too perfect; lying here like this. He wonders if perhaps he can claim that he’d never slept so well and suggest they make this a habit. If she wants to take care of him, then surely she can spend one night a week in his bed. She’d never have to know her presence chases sleep away rather than encourages it.  

Before that thought can go any further, Belle shifts again and Rumplestiltskin realizes with horror that she is waking up. He snaps his eyes shut, the thought of explaining to her how they ended up with her draped over him an unpleasant one, and he evens out his breathing, feigning the sleep he could not actually achieve.   
  
He feels Belle wake and he hears the small gasp of surprise as she realizes she’s wrapped around him. He anticipates a quick and careful removal of limbs, moving quietly and lightly so that they can pretend this never happened (and oh it will haunt him and torture him that she is disgusted by his touch) but it doesn’t come. Instead he feels a slight shift and forces himself to remain still as she moves  _closer_ to him.   
  
She is pressed completely against him now and the daring thing even moves to drape her leg over one of his. He keeps his breathing even, forcing himself to stay calm and tries to keep his ever increasing heart rate from giving him away. She shifts again, sighing as she does so, and he feels the chill of her hand leaving his chest, only to come to rest on his cheek, brushing away a few stray strands of hair. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at the tender touch. It’s been too long since anyone offered him any affection. And he’s worried it will show.

Her hand, which is as curious as the rest of her, slowly and gently travels down his cheek to rest at his lips. She doesn’t touch them, but her thumb brushes underneath at his chin and it tickles but he refuses to budge. If she knows he’s awake she’ll stop and he would willingly sleep forever if he had the assurance that she would show him such affection during his slumber.

Her hand moves again, coming to rest on his chest. She plays with the fabric of his nightshirt, grazing his nipples with her fingertips and his bites back a hiss, silently cursing. He’s torn between hoping and dreading that her hand will go lower. He waits with bated breath but her hand doesn’t move. Not for a couple minutes at least, but then it  _does_ move and she’s brushing his stomach and he’s having visions of rolling over and pinning her underneath him and giving her a thorough lesson about the danger of waking a sleeping monster. But then her hand moves  _again_ and now she’s in dangerous territory and he needs to stop this because it’s already gone farther than it should. He’s not immune to her touch and she’s about to find out just much he’s enjoying her ministrations and it’s going to be awkward if she touches him there - a place that only his hand has visited on the absolute rarest of occasions in recent years - then it will be even more awkward because she’ll discover the result of her curiosity and he doesn’t think he has the energy to have that conversation.

Summoning his showman, he squirms slightly and blinks, giving her plenty of time to jerk her hand back but she remains where she is and he opens his eyes, her name springing forth in a breathless whisper when he sees her staring at him with the widest blue eyes.

Her hand travels upward, coming to lay no-so innocently on his chest and she offers him a hesitant smile. “How did you sleep?”

He doesn’t know if he should laugh, because she’s not even going to try explaining why he awoke to her hand so dangerously close to his cock. Her cheeks are red, but it’s not the maidenly flush that he expected. She is warm and her eyes are dark.

“I would have slept better had a certain curious little maid not decided to molest me,” He teases in a high tone, hating himself for it, but perhaps its best this way. He can either embarrass her into never doing this again or pull her to him and beg her to touch him and never stop and he isn’t brave enough to do that.

She giggles -  _she giggles_ \- and Rumple is left to stare at her curiously as she shifts and moves so that she is half laying on him. "I hardly think I was molesting you,” she says with a certainty that makes him wonder if she’d planned all of this from the beginning. She nods to the place where the sheet is tented, “Besides, it’s clear you enjoyed it.”

“I was sleeping.”

She smirks. “That’s not a denial.”

He winces and she knows she’s got him right where she wants him. He decides he likes it there too.   
  
He’s hesitant, but he tightens his arm around her and brings his free hand up to touch her face. She leans into the touch and hums with delight as his long nails trace her cheek. “It’s not a denial,” he admits. “But it wasn’t wise.”   
  
That seemed to catch her by surprise. She swallows thickly and his eyes flick to her throat and all the delicious things he could do to it, but she begins to shift away from him, an apology at her lips, “I know it isn’t proper but-”  
  
He jerks her back to him, his mind too tired and his body too on edge to care what he’s doing. “I thought nothing about our situation was proper?” He asked and she bows her head in embarrassment.

“Well I’m sorry if-”

“Are you?”

She blinks. “What?”

He sets his gaze firmly on hers. “Are you sorry? Or are you only sorry that you were caught?”

An understanding comes over her and she grins. “Are you angry with me?” She tries to sound contrite; she fails miserably.  

“Oh I’m many things at the moment, love; none of them are angry.”

She blushes and glances down. The sheets are tented beautifully and if she needed any proof that he was willing to be subjected to her curious touches, it’s there and her fingers twitch, eager to finish the exploration they started.

“I’m sorry I got caught,” she admits slowly, trailing her eyes up slowly to meet his. “But only a little.” She feels him shudder and he shifts so that he’s on his side facing her. He pulls her so they are laying together, chest to chest and though she hadn’t managed to reach her goal earlier, she feels it pressed to her thigh now, harder than she ever imagined it to be and she reaches out almost instinctively to grip his side, needing something to keep her grounded from this new and all too pleasant sensation.

“I could always pretend to be asleep, if that would make you feel better,” he teases with a sinful smile.

She laughs and trails her hand lower. "I think I like you better awake.”

He’ll sleep later, he decides as he shudders in pleasure at her touch. He’s the Dark One after all, and he doesn’t have time for foolish things such as sleep. Not when there are more important things to be done.


	9. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't make a deal with her. He makes a promise. Prompt by superwholock-in-storybrook

It would be so easy, to just leave without a word. She’s done it before; walked away from him and left him without a proper goodbye. The first time she’d been heartbroken and angry. His words, however untrue they may have been, had stung and now that he was practicing magic and shutting her out and keeping secrets she felt that sting again.

She sat, dressed in one of the many outfits he’d given her, holding one of his sweaters in her hands, staring at the open window. She’d pushed it open with the fierce determination to leave; to show him that she wasn’t some maid in a castle anymore, but then her drive had vanished and she sat, wondering if it really was the smartest decision to just leave.

She didn’t know anyone. She didn’t know where anything was. She didn’t know enough about this new world to properly and safely make her way around but she knew she couldn’t just  _sit_ here and do nothing. She stood, standing in the open space between the door and the window;  one leading toward uncertainty and the other…leading to the same.

She knew it was a bad idea to leave but she needed to think. She needed to figure out what to say to the infuriating man whom she loves more than anything but she can’t do it here where she’s surrounded by him. Everything in this house is his and nothing is hers and she needs a neutral space to gather her thoughts, to breathe, because she cannot do either right now and she needs both those things in order to talk to Rumple; and more importantly, to listen to him.

He’s so used to keeping secrets; so used to having no one to share his secrets with that it’s no surprise he can’t confide in her now that she’s here. They’ve both been alone far longer than they’ve been together and as much as she wants to have a normal relationship where they argue over whose turn it is to do the dishes that night instead of arguing over magic, she knows that their relationship has never been normal and to expect normalcy now is foolish.

And really, she wouldn’t want normal anyway. She’d had normal, in the form of a tall and proper gentleman who valued her silence over her words and she’d hated it. So no, she didn’t want normal. But she didn’t want  _this,_ either. This strange sensation that even though he is just downstairs  they are a thousand miles apart.

And then there is a knock on the door and she hears him call her name and suddenly it feels like she’s trapped in a tower again and she needs him to open the door and save her because she’s so tired of closed doors, literal and metaphorical, and she’ll do whatever she has to do to get Rumple to open every door he has.

She moves quickly and turns the handle, letting him into his bedroom. His relief that she is still there is almost palpable and Belle tries to ignore the guilt she feels at having ever considering leaving him. If she wants him to believe that she loves him for  _all_ of him, she doesn’t need to take off at the first little disagreement they have. Actions do speak louder than words.

He stands awkwardly, leaning heavily on his cane and Belle wonders if it might snap from the pressure put upon it. She sees the desperation in his eyes, the very look is in her own and she steps forward, still clutching the sweater and kisses his cheek. He starts, obviously not expecting the gesture of affection and her offers her a hesitant smile.

“I know you’re upset with me,” he begins, noticing the sweater in her hands, “But I’d still like to make you breakfast.”

She shakes her head. If he’s willing to cook for her, maybe he’s willing to talk. To listen.

“I’d like to go out instead,” she says slowly, “With you.”

That perks him up and he suggests they go somewhere called Granny’s to eat. He’s always worrying about making sure she eats. He asks constantly if she’s hungry or thirsty. He asks if she’s cold. He asks if she needs anything. And while normally she insists she’s fine, now she does need something.

She needs him.

They leave together, Belle wrapped up in Gold’s sweater and her arm through his. She tells him she wants to talk about their earlier disagreement and he nods, telling her that he wants to tell her everything but that she is correct: he is a coward. She shakes her head, her curls whipping about wildly.

“You’re not a coward,” she says softly, squeezing his arm. “It was wrong of me to say that.”

“No,” he disagrees, “It’s true. I’m afraid that I’ll lose you. I’m afraid I’ve lost Bae forever.”

She stops and turns to face him. “Why? What’s happened?”

It’s his turn to shake his head and he takes her arm once more, leading her to the diner. “Let’s get you something to eat first,” he says, “And then I’ll tell you everything.”

“Promise?“

She purposely doesn’t ask him to make a deal. Too many people have made deals with him and he’s not just The Dark One or Mr. Gold to her. He’s her True Love and she prefers promises to deals. He makes deals with strangers and enemies. He makes promises to those he loves. He gives her a smile, the first true smile she’s seen from him in a long time and suddenly she can breathe.

“I promise.”


	10. Already Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple thinks Belle has moved on after Neverland. Prompt by repeatinglitanies

He’d always assumed she’d find someone else, but actually living to see it happen was far worse than he’d  ever imagined. He stood in the shadows, watching as Belle twirls with the fluffy haired child, laughing as they spin together. She loses her balance, clumsy thing that she is, but a man – tall, handsome, and strong – is there to steady her and she wraps her arm around his waist in a side hug that makes Rumple’s heart wrench. But she’s happy. And that’s what she deserves.

He watches as they continue to talk and play and it’s the perfect scene: a beautiful family making happy memories together. He only wishes he could have been part of it.

He turns to walk away, but he hears his name being called and he turns to see Belle rushing toward him. He freezes, wondering why she would run to him when she has someone else waiting just a few feet away. He has no opportunity to ask her what she wants because suddenly she is in his arms and she’s kissing him and crying and whispering his name over and over with such reverence and love that he is half convinced he is still in Neverland and this is a sick dream conjured by Pan to torture him further.

He pulls away from Belle and she frowns. “Rumple,” she says, her tone hurt, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s rude to kiss a man when you’re already taken.”

She blinks, confused. She has not kissed anyone since she kissed him on the docks and this sudden hostility is so like him, but it’s never been directed  _at_   _her_  and this was not the reunion she’d imagined. She glances behind her, her eyes falling on Robin and his son, and her eyes grow wide. She whirls around to face Rumple.

“I’m not taken,” she says sharply, then winces at that. “I mean, yes I am. With you. But Robin is a friend. And Roland wanted to explore the town. I’m not seeing another man, Rumple. I’ve been waiting for you.”

It’s too much to take in. He recalls a man named Robin – the man Belle freed and whose life he’d spared. The child must be his son. Belle is not in love with the other man; she is not making a family with someone else. She’s been here waiting for him and taking care of the citizens that were left behind and he can’t focus on anything anymore other than Belle is here and she  _hasn’t_ moved on. Gods, he is a fool.

He clutches her to him and sobs, his relief overwhelming him. Belle clings to him, her own tears of relief falling as well. He’s finally home, later than the others but that doesn’t matter anymore, and she can finally start to work on her happy ending.

They kiss again, frantically and desperately and it’s only when Belle breaks away breathless and panting that she suggests he come meet the man and child who have been keeping her company. The introductions are awkward, at least for the men, but Roland is innocent and sweet and if Miss Belle thinks the man in leather is nice then he  _must_ be nice and so he offers him his hand just like his Papa taught him. Rumple kneels down and shakes the boy’s hand – endeared by the child’s pleasant greeting. He reminds Rumple of Baelfire, so many years ago. The boy smiles at him, his brown eyes wide and bright and Rumple cannot begrudge Belle for seeming so smitten with the child. He’s a precious thing.

Rumple stands after a moment and wraps an arm possessively around Belle’s waist. “I’d like to thank you for seeing to Belle while I was gone,” he says with only little difficulty. “But I’m home now. And I’d like to steal her away for a while.” Robin smirks knowingly and bows his head and tells Belle he’ll see her tomorrow for tea at Granny’s, their weekly routine. Roland asks if he can get ice cream , a delicious treat Belle introduced him to, and Robin agrees and then Belle and Rumple are gone, a trace of purple mist left in their wake.

Belle brings Rumple along for her meeting with father and son. It all goes surprisingly well until Roland innocently asks how Belle got the rather large bruise on her neck.


	11. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't know him. But she thinks she might. Prompt by repeatinglitanies.

She knows she shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s entirely out of her control. She’s married; has been for as long as she can remember, and she deeply cares for her husband. But her eyes sometimes wander and occasionally they will land on another – Mr. Gold, the devilish and terrifying pawn broker, lawyer, and landlord of Storybrooke – and her heart flutters and she feels warm despite the chill in the air.

She knows it’s wrong; she’s wracked with guilt every time she imagines his hands or lips on her instead of her husband’s. She becomes flustered when he comes to the library, blushing like a silly school girl as he tells her about the most recent book he’s read.

And what’s worse is she thinks he knows. Of course he knows: he’s Mr. Gold and Mr. Gold is known for, amongst other things, knowing  _everything_. She knows that’s why he comes to the library. It’s why he leans over the counter and offers her that small half-smile that leaves her biting her lip to keep from moaning his name when it’s her husband on top of her and she knows she should be disgusted by all of this.

But she isn’t.

Because deep down she knows what she feels for Mr. Gold isn’t some silly school girl crush. It’s real and deep and pure (though how could it be when she’s vowed to love another?) But she also finds comfort in the teasing. She finds comfort in knowing she can long for him and he can flirt and tease from across the circulation desk and nothing will ever happen that could cause anyone any pain.

But then one day it stops and she’s left to wonder why he’s suddenly so distant and cold. He stops coming to the library. He stops offering her smiles when they pass on the street. He stops bidding her a good morning when they happen to arrive at Granny’s at the same time for their respective weekly coffees – and eventually he stops showing up all together – and she wonders if she’s done something to offend him.

She entertains the idea that perhaps her husband has said something to him. But Robin seems oblivious to Mr. Gold’s behavior – or the change in it – and so Belle decides that probably isn’t why Mr. Gold suddenly treats her as if  _she_ were the town pariah.

It hurts, she realizes. She took for granted the teasing and the smiles and the shy, secret glances until they’re no longer there. She feels stupid for thinking it could last forever; why would he want something like that? He can look but it’s her husband who touches and as nice as looking can be, it’s never quite enough. She knows that all too well.

She tries to let it go. She tries to remind herself that she is married and that all those thoughts (and wishes and fantasies) were wrong and she should never have had them. But she can’t. She still looks up expectantly every time someone enters the library, hoping it’s him coming to ask her about a book. She hopes that when she walks down the street with her arm linked through Robin’s that he’ll pass by and offer her a sly smirk that she can tuck away and cherish.

And then one day, while sitting on a park bench on her lunch break, she gets the strange sensation that she’s being watched. It’s a strange but familiar feeling, and she looks up from her book to see Mr. Gold standing on the far side of the park, hands clasped in front of him, watching her intently. He’s too far away for her to say anything to him, but he’s close enough for her to see the expression on his face: he looks sad; lonely. He looks at her with the same longing she’s felt in her heart for so long and suddenly she feels like he’s the only person in this town that she really  _knows_  and somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks she’s seen that look on him before but she can’t recall when.  

And then, slowly and hesitantly, he smiles. It’s neither a smirk nor the sly grin he would slip to her like a secret, but a  _smile._ She smiles back and briefly entertains the idea of inviting him to the library one day for tea. For some reason, she thinks she knows exactly how he takes it.


	12. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Rumple gets hurt during a family visit, Henry helps Belle with her worries about a now mortal rumple. Prompted by steampunk-archer.

It was to be a small gathering to celebrate Neal and Emma’s new home. Emma was uncomfortable, this unexpected pregnancy harder on her than the first one had ever been and she hadn’t wanted much fanfare. After Neverland, a surprise reunion with Neal, and time trying to work things out with him  _and_  her parents, she just wanted to rest. And so it would just be Neal and Emma, Henry, and Rumplestiltksin and Belle. Neal was fond of the petite beauty, and was glad to see that someone had finally had a good influence on his father.

They had the house set up - though it was a bit sparse - and Henry had quickly made himself at home. Like his father, he tended to leave a trail of things in his wake. Clothing, books, homework, food, the boy was a messy creature and Emma was doing her best to remind the kid to pick up his stuff so she wouldn’t trip and fall.

Henry was in his bedroom, throwing things into his closet to give his room the illusion of being clean when he heard the knock on the door. He threw a few more things in the closet and slammed it shut before heading downstairs to greet his family. Rumple and Belle stood in the doorway looking as contrasting as ever, Rumple rigid in his three piece suit and Belle in a summery dress and a bright smile. They entered and Henry gave Belle a quick hug before telling his grandfather he had something to show him.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled at his grandson’s enthusiasm to show him new things and followed the boy into the dining room. It was relatively quiet as Belle and Emma spoke about how she was feeling, but suddenly there was a loud  _thud_  followed by a harsh curse and Henry shouting in surprise. Both women took off, as did Neal, appearing from the kitchen to find the source of the commotion.

They entered the room to see Rumple sprawled out in an undignified manner on the floor with Henry looking every bit like the guilty kid he was. Belle was at Rumple’s side in an instant, watching as he pulled the wooden sword out from underneath him. Emma glared at Henry. “I thought I told you to pick up your stuff, kid?”

Henry offered an apologetic look. “I was still cleaning my room.”

Neal chuckled and reached down to give his father a hand. “Kid can survive Neverland but can’t seem to keep his stuff where is belongs.”

Rumple took his son’s hand and shifted as he was pulled up by his son’s strength, Belle rising with him to ensure he had his balance. He winced when he put the slightest pressure on his foot and Belle instantly wrapped her arm around his waist and forced him to lean on her.

“I’m fine, love,” he said, clearly embarrassed. She ignored him and looked at Emma.

“Can we get him to the couch?”

Emma nodded, one hand on her stomach and offered to show her where to go. Neal moved to the other side of Rumple and put his arm around his neck. “I could scoop you up and carry you, if you want,” he said softly and Rumple couldn’t resist a laugh this time.

“Not bloody likely,” he responded as he allowed Neal to help him limp to the couch.

Knowing her help wasn’t needed now that Neal had things under control, Belle stayed behind, toying with the wooden sword that had caused him to fall. Henry moved to stand beside her and glanced up, ashamed. “I’m really sorry, Belle,” he said. “I was cleaning my room and I forgot I left my practice sword in here.”

Belle smiled and let her hand rest on his shoulder. “It’s all right Henry,” she assured him, “It was an accident.”

“But you look really upset.”

She nodded. “I’m so used to him being untouchable. I watched him get shot in the chest with an arrow and he barely blinked; but now he has no magic. He’s mortal. He could die.”

Henry nodded. “Yeah, but so could you,” he said reasonably. “And according to what I know of your story, he spent a long time thinking you were dead.”

She nodded, the thought of so many years locked up still able to send a chill through her. Henry continued, “So now you know how he feels. He probably worried about you a lot when he first found you. And now you can worry about him. If I’ve learned anything from my Moms and my Dad, it’s that the people who love you the most are the ones who worry about you the most too. Because my Moms worry about me  _all the time._ ”

“Well, you did get kidnapped not that long ago,” Belle reasoned, knowing that the boy’s words were true.

Henry shrugged, “Yeah. But even before then. They always worried about me getting into trouble or getting hurt. Grandpa and Grandma worry about each other and Grandpa Gold worries about you. Now you can worry about him.”

Belle smiled, oddly comforted by the words. “I do worry about him,” she agreed softly. “I was so worried about him while he was gone.”

Henry nodded and they move toward the room where Neal had taken Rumple. “Then it’s definitely love,” he said with a surety that made Belle giggle.


	13. Stupid Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle tells Rumple she was coming back to him after her adventure with the Yaoguai.

“I was coming back, you know.”

“What?”

He turns his head to look at her and she shifts in his arms so that she can better face him.

“I was coming back,” she repeats, snuggling into him and moving her hand from his chest to play with the hair that has fallen into his face, “To you. When Regina captured me.”

They’ve never really talked about this. He knows she’d been captured and kept in a tower and cell for more years than he cares to think of, but she’d never before mentioned what occurred in the time between her departure and her capture.

“Belle,” he whispers and she leans up to press a quick kiss to his lips to silence him.

“I’m not telling you to make you feel bad,” she says gently, “I just wanted you to know. I was going to come back to you.”

He can’t think of anything to say and so he moves to loom over her and it thrills him to see her smile and flush. “I should have never let you go,” he says after a moment, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. She hums in satisfaction and wraps her arms around his neck.

“We both did stupid things,” she says distractedly as she begins kissing along his jaw.

“What did you do?”

“I left.”

He groans and kisses her, cursing himself for ever letting her go, but thanking the gods that she was willing to come back.


	14. Hamburgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle learns that Granny’s isn’t the only place she can get a hamburger. Prompted by jarethshole.

Belle stared out the window, a deep frown marring her otherwise lovely features. She’d been so looking forward to her date with Gold, but thanks to the sudden - and intense - thunderstorm that decided to make its appearance, they would be going nowhere. She sighed and let her head fall against the couch. Even the weather was conspiring against them.  
  
She heard the distinct sound of Gold’s cane as he descended the stairs and when he saw the horrid storm raging outside, his frown matched hers.  
  
“It seems another date has been spoiled,” Belle groaned as he made is way over to her. “And it’s a real shame.” She continued, “I was really looking forward to our hamburger date.”  
  
Gold was pensive for a moment before reaching out to take her hand and pulled her up. “I have an idea,” he said as he began to lead her to the kitchen. “Come with me.” She followed obediently, wondering what he could be planning.

When they reached the kitchen, Gold let go of her hand and moved to the refrigerator. He rummaged around for a few moments before pulling out a package of meat and sat it on the counter. He turned to her and pointed with his cane to a cabinet close to her. “Second cabinet to your right, love,” he said, “Will you pull out the small grill?”  

She nodded, not quite sure what a grill was or how it was going to help them, and bent down and opened the door. She pulled out a large, somewhat heavy metal object and turned to him slightly, “This thing?” She asked and Gold nodded. “Bring it here,” he instructed and she did so.

She placed it on the counter and Gold grabbed the cord and stuck it in the outlet. After turning the dial, he turned his attention back to the packaged meat and began to unwrap it.

“What does this do?” She asked. Gold ignored her question and instead gave another gentle command. “Be a dear and get the cutting board also,” he said. “In the corner cabinet.” Despite being frustrated, Belle obeyed, and when she handed him the large piece of wood he placed the meat on it and began to flatten it out, before breaking off a piece and pressing it with his hands into a disc shape.

Finally unable to contain her curiosity, Belle asked, “What exactly are you doing?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and stated, “Making hamburgers.”

“I thought we could only get them at Granny’s.” Belle said, “But you can make them here?”

Gold chuckled softly, “Granny isn’t the only one capable of making hamburgers. This grill,” he nodded toward the strange object she’d gotten for him, “Will allow us to make our own hamburgers.” He handed her the piece of meat he’d been molding into a patty, and instructed her further, “Lift the lid to the grill.” She did as she was told and moved her head back in surprise as the heat hit her face.

“Place the patty on the grill. Carefully. Don’t burn yourself.” She dropped it onto the flat, hot surface, eyes lighting up as the cold meat sizzled against the hot plate of the grill. Gold pulled off another piece of the meat, and after quickly pressing it, dropped it on the grill next to hers. He closed the lid and Belle looked up at him, excitedly. “Now what?” She asked.

“Now we wait.”

He packed up the remaining meat and placed it in the freezer, and began to pull out the necessary components for a hamburger, all of which Belle recognized. He handed her the cheese and lettuce, and carried over the bottles of mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup himself. He grabbed hamburger buns out of the pantry, and instructed Belle to get two plates.

When she handed him his plate, he took it and offered a hamburger bun to her in return. They began to add their ingredients to the bread and when they were done, Gold moved back to the small grill. “Would you like to do the honors?” He asked and Belle nodded eagerly. He had her bring the plates over and set them down next to the grill. Handing her a spatula, he showed her how to switch off the grill, then had her lift the lid. Hot steam hit their faces and Belle giggled then grinned widely when she saw the two cooked patties before her.

“Use the spatula to place the burgers on the buns,” Gold said and Belle did as instructed, somehow making the act more graceful than it should have been.

They topped off the burgers and Belle picked up the plates and they made their way to the dining room to eat. They sat down to their meal, Gold watching Belle take her first bite, eager to see her reaction.

“Well?” He inquired and Belle let out a moan of approval.

“It’s delicious!” She exclaimed, her hand covering her mouth. “Much better than Granny’s, though don’t tell her I said that.” She finished her bite then smiled widely at him, “This is incredible!” She exclaimed and Gold laughed.

“I’m pleased I was able to save our date,” he said. “But I get the feeling now that you know hamburgers can be made in your own home, my chances of persuading you out to dinner are very slim.”

Belle smiled. “As long as I can get a hamburger, I’ll let you take me anywhere you want.”

She had meant it to be funny, but the words touched Gold’s heart, and he reached his hand out to take hers, smiling warmly at her.

“I promise, no matter what happens, you’ll always be able to have your hamburger.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment before Belle removed her hand and took another large, unladylike bite out of her hamburger.

She swallowed, then and idea struck her. She glanced up at Gold, and he could instantly tell by the look in her eyes that she’d just thought of a question.

“Can we make French fries here, too?”


	15. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumbelle - FTL - A guest (someone looking for a deal) accidentally injures Belle. (While she is bedridden, he has the guest take her place and clean the castle, while he obsessively checks in on her. Prompted by Temporalteatime.

The Dark Castle was far too quiet for Jefferson’s liking. He wandered through the empty halls, glancing around suspiciously. It wouldn’t be unlike the Dark One to pop up behind him in an effort to scare him, and he caught himself glancing behind him every so often to make sure the imp wasn’t sneaking behind him.

He’d been here numerous times; he was a welcome guest, mostly, and tried his best to only come on invitation. And that was what bothered him so. He’d been invited here today, and he couldn’t imagine the Dark One simply  _ _forgot.__

He decided to make his way up toward Rumplestiltskin’s workroom, which was where they typically held their meetings. He climbed the stairs and turned the corner to make his way down a long corridor. So lost in his thoughts was he, that he failed to notice the young woman approaching him, her eyes glued to the book in her hands. When he did notice her it was far too late, and he let out a startled yelp, causing her to look up in surprise. Upon seeing another person before her, one she did not recognize, she let out a startled shriek and tried to take a step back, but the heel of her shoe caught on the hem of her long skirt, causing her to crash to the ground.

Jefferson instinctively bent down to assist her, but froze when he saw a swirl of purple mist, the Dark One stepping out from it half a moment later.

He looked down at Belle with horrified concern, and knelt at her side, completely ignoring the Hatter, and took her hand in his.

“Are you all right?” He asked and she nodded, offering him a sheepish smile.

“You have a visitor,” she said matter-of-fact as he helped her stand, his eyebrows creasing as she winced in pain.

“And you’re hurt,” he said sharply, rolling his eyes over to give Jefferson a hateful glare.

Belle squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to her. “I’m fine,” she said. “He just startled me is all. I tripped over myself. You know how clumsy I am.”

Rumple would hear none of it. Wrapping one hand under her knees, the other going across her back, he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and turned to walk down the hallway. “Well, you are going to stay in bed until I’ve dealt with our  _ _guest,__ ” he spat out the word like it was a curse, turning slightly to offer Jefferson another glare, “Then I’ll come see to you.”

Belle sighed. “Really, Rumple, it’s all right.”

“Ah, ah,” he chided. “You’re my caretaker, remember? You have to do what I say, and if I say I want you to go to bed and stay there, then you’re going to obey.”

She made no attempt to argue with him, and allowed him to carry her to her room. Jefferson followed helplessly behind them, wondering just what kind of tantrum the Dark One would throw at him for injuring his apparent caretaker. When they reached a room Jefferson could only assume was the girl’s, Rumple turned to him and said, his voice low and serious, “I’ll meet you in the workroom.” His tone left no room for argument, and Jefferson merely nodded, offering an apologetic smile to the girl in Rumplestiltskin’s arms, and continued down the hall toward the workroom.

Belle gave him a humored look, but Rumple shushed her, placing her gently on top of the bed, conjuring her book, a tray containing a tea set and a plate of pastries. “Call if you need something, dearie,” he informed her as he turned to leave.

“Really, Rumple, I’m fine,” she protested. He turned and pointed at her with a long finger.

“Do. Not. Move.” He demanded, and though his tone was dark, she could see the worry in his eyes and decided that if it would make him feel better, she would oblige him. At least until the visitor left.

Rumple closed the door behind him, then with a twist of his finger, disappeared and reappeared in the workroom, where Jefferson stood, admiring a potion that was currently being brewed.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re here? Other than injuring my housekeeper,” Rumple asked darkly and Jefferson apologized.

“We bumped into each other,” he said. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“And yet she can barely walk!” Rumple declared, his hands twirling around him. “You do realize this is going to cost you, dearie?” He said and Jefferson nodded begrudgingly.

“I figured as much,” he said with resignation. “Can we add it to the price of our deal?”

“Oh, I’m not making a deal with you until you’ve made up for the fact that my caretaker is out of commission.” Rumple informed him.

Jefferson sighed. “I am sorry,” he said. “But what do you want?” He needed this deal to be made, and if he had to work a little harder to make it happen, so be it.

Rumple put a finger to his chin in thought. “I want you to take Belle’s place while she recovers,” he said.

Jefferson blanched. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am!” Rumple exclaimed. “This place isn’t going to dust itself!”

Jefferson gave him a dry, pointed look. “You really expect me to  _ _clean__  your castle because I bumped into your maid?” He asked.

Rumple’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Careful, dearie,” he said, “Or I’ll make you do it in a dress. If you want to make your deal, this is how we’re going to do it.”

Jefferson was silent for several long moments, watching Rumplestiltksin carefully. When it became clear that the Dark One was indeed serious, Jefferson groaned but nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Where do I start?”   
  
Rumplestiltskin let out a maniacal giggle. “Follow me.”

                                                    -000-

Jefferson had been dusting and cleaning for several hours, and he was exhausted. He couldn’t believe Rumple made the girl work this hard, and he told himself that perhaps it was a good thing he’d knocked her over; she would be able to take a rest from her exhaustive task. He checked to make sure the room was spotless - and it was. Pleased with his progress, he decided he needed a break, and wandered around until he found the kitchen. After rummaging through the pantry, he found the necessary ingredients to make tea.

He fixed a pot, then decided he should take some to the girl. Perhaps she could use some company, he thought. He followed the path back to her bedroom, and went to nudge the door open with his foot when he heard a stifled giggle.

“Really, Rumple. I’m perfectly fine. I’m just as fine as I was five minutes ago when you came to check on me,” she said as she sat up, allowing the Dark One to fluff her pillows.

“That idiotic hatter caused you to get hurt,” he grumbled, lifting the lid of the teapot to check its contents. He poured more in a cup, then added a small drop of a strange blue liquid into the cup and handed it to Belle. “Drink this,” he commanded. “It’ll help with the pain.

"Rumple, it doesn’t hurt that much,” she said, taking the cup from him anyway. He urged her to drink, and she did so, asking him if he was happy now that she’d taken some medicine.

“I just want to ensure that my caretaker will be back to work soon,” he commented lightly. “Can’t have you slacking off.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Indeed I do, dearie.”

“Well, go get to it. I  _ _promise__  if I need you, I’ll call.”

He hesitated for a moment, watching her cautiously, then disappeared in a puff of magic.

Belle chuckled and smiled at his worrying over her. He tried so hard to be intimidating, but when it came down to it, he was sweet and attentive to her. It was quite charming in her opinion.

Deciding to pass the time, she picked up her book and began flipping through the pages when she was interrupted by a tap on the door. She looked up just as Jefferson entered, still holding the tea tray, and he smiled at her hesitantly. “I thought you might like some tea,” he said gently.   
  
She shook her head. “I don’t think I want tea, but I wouldn’t mind some company.” He grinned at that, relieved, and sat the tea tray beside the other one that occupied her nightstand and fixed himself a cup. She invited him to take a seat on the bed, and he did so hesitantly, knowing this went against all elements of propriety.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he apologized again and she waved away his words.

“Oh, it’s just as much my fault as anything. I’ve been told countless times not to read and walk, but I never listen. And it’s only a slight sprain,” she said. “Rumplestiltskin is just overreacting. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Jefferson said, taking a sip of his tea. He was about to speak again when he heard someone behind him. He looked back to see the Dark One standing there, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Don’t you have things to dust?” He sneered and Jefferson sighed slightly before standing and bowing slightly to Belle.

“It was a pleasure, however brief,” he said before taking his leave. Rumple conjured a duster and tossed it to Jefferson as he passed and Rumple giggled at the glare he received. Jefferson exited the room and Rumple moved closer to the bed.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked gently.

“You’re making him  _ _clean__?” Belle asked in disbelief. “Oh, Rumple, really. It was an accident.”

He ignored her and reached down to wrap his hand gently around her ankle. At her slightly wince, he looked back up at her and frowned. “It’s still swollen.”

“It’s hardly swollen,” Belle chided. “No worse than it was five minutes ago.” Ignoring her, Rumple conjured a small pouch that he pressed against her ankle. It was extremely cold, but felt good against her skin and Belle sighed in relief.

“Does that help?” Rumplestiltskin asked, and she nodded indulgently.

“Yes, thank you,” she said and he offered her a small smile.

“Do you need anything else?” He asked and she shook her head. He hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave. He turned, slowly making his way to the door and she chuckled softly before calling out to him.

“Actually,” she said sweetly, and he whipped around ready to do whatever she asked. “Go make your deal with that nice man and then fix a spot for me in your work room. You aren’t going to get anything done if you keep checking on me every couple minutes.”

Rumple shook his head. “Part of his deal is that he clean while you recover.”

She gave him a dry look. “Is that  _ _really__  necessary?” She asked and he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t torment the poor man. He’s already apologized. And he looked exhausted.”

“Good.”

She glared at him. “Rumplestiltskin.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine,” he said. “He’ll stay long enough to make our supper, and then I’ll let him go. Does that make you happy?”

“Yes,” she smiled.

He picked her up then, carefully, and whisked them to his workroom. After making sure she was comfortable, he disappeared to inform Jefferson of the change in plans. He appeared in the Great Hall, surprised when he saw just how spotless the room appeared. He wondered briefly then if he should keep Jefferson as his caretaker, and just let Belle keep him company.

She made a better companion than housekeeper, anyway.


	16. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr.Gold has a terrible nightmare…but Belle is there to comfort him.

__“No!”_ _

Gold sat straight up, breathing heavily as he took a moment to take in his surroundings. He sighed in relief at the realization that he was  _ _not__  locked in that damned cell and Belle was  _ _not__ dead-

He glanced over at his side to see Belle looking up at him tiredly. “You okay?” She murmured as she shifted and sat up. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and sighed. Her hands began running gently over his back and he flinched slightly at the initial touch, but quickly melted into her, grateful to have her there to fight away the darkness and terror.

“Want to talk about it?” She asked, her voice low and drowsy, and although Gold hated himself for disturbing her sleep, he thought perhaps it would be good to talk about it.

He’d been alone for so long. He was tired of having no one to confide in.

“You were dead,” he whispered, shifting so that he leaned against the headboard, pulling her close. She lay her head against his chest and hummed, encouraging him to continue. “I was locked in a cage and they told me you had died. I wanted to get out, to go to you, but I couldn’t-” his breath hitched and Belle began to run her hands over his chest, her touch soothing him. “I couldn’t get out,” he continued. “I was powerless. I couldn’t get to you.” He paused. “And then, they brought your body to me. I barely recognized you. You were battered and bruised and bloodied and I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t able to save you.”

He stopped, unable to continue as a sob escaped him and Belle pulled herself up, taking his face in her hands. Caressing his cheeks gently she whispered, “I’m not dead. I’m alive and here with you. And you aren’t in a cage. You’re free. We’re together,” she paused, pressing her forehead against his. “Nothing is going to tear us apart,” she declared. “You and I will always be together. No matter what anyone says or does, I’m not going anywhere. My place,” she said, lowering one hand to press against his heart, “Is right here.”

“Oh, Belle,” he whispered brokenly, wrapping his arms around her to pull her into a tight embrace. She hugged him back, nuzzling her head in the crook of his neck. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” he whispered.

“And you won’t have to,” she promised, moving away from him and pulling him back down to lie beneath the sheets. “Not again.” They wrapped their arms around each other and in time they drifted back to sleep, safe in each others arms.


	17. Outfit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple sees Belle in her warrior outfit. Prompted by Westcoastmalone.

He’d heard the rumors for a while now; that a horrific monster was terrorizing a local village. The rumors steadily grew until he was hearing tales of how the beast known as the Yaoguai was destroying villages and could kill with merely a look. Rumple scoffed at that. He was well aware that the stories told about a monster were often worse than the monster itself.

He’d had no interest in dealing with the Yaoguai, but someone from the village the creature was currently attacking wanted to make a deal, and Rumple had his sights set on a valuable item the villager had.

He made his way through the village, cloaked so as not to draw attention, when he heard a commotion in the town square. He carefully made his way over, watching as two large men held someone in the well, yelling about how she’d lied to them about the location of the Yaoguai.

He could hear the girl trying to splutter out an explanation, but the men dunked her back in the water, and something in Rumplestiltskin snapped.

With a wave of his hand, the two men flew across the square, crashing into a vendor’s booth, destroying it and creating a large mess. With another sweep of his hand, he knocked the men unconscious, leaving them in their undignified heap amidst the mess.

Rumple moved over to the well, where the girl was trying to pull herself up. Rumple gripped her waist and set her to rights. She was wet, her hair limp and matted from the water, and she shivered slightly. He was about to inquire if she was all right, but froze when she turned to face him.

It was Belle.

It was Belle in tight leggings, tall boots, and a low-cut leather corset. 

He didn’t know whether to look awayor to stare, but she spoke then, and he forced himself to lift his eyes  _ _up__  to meet her gaze.

“R-Rumple?” She asked with disbelief and he offered a nervous half smile before nodding.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, clearly alarmed that he was before her, and he cringed as he thought of himself tossing her into a dungeon and screaming harshly at her.

“I’m here to make a deal,” he said softly, aware of the growing crowd around them. “But perhaps it can wait.”

He waved his hand and dried her off, then gestured for her to follow him, but she surprised him by brushing past and making her way to the local tavern. He watched her for a moment, eyes instantly lowering to her behind, which was cupped tightly by the skin-tight leggings. Her hips swayed as she walked and he wondered how he’d never noticed her lovely shape before.  
  
They entered the tavern and she ordered two large mugs of ale and passed one to him. They sat and Belle began to drink, amazing Rumplestiltskin to see how much she had changed in the few weeks she’d been gone.

“You look… _ _good__ ,” he said, eying her again appreciatively. Indeed, he thought, she looked more than  _ _good.__ She looked incredible. He’d thought her gorgeous in her golden gown and becoming in her blue work dress, but what could he possibly describe her as in this outfit?

Amazing. Perfect. Delectable. Desirable. Beautiful.

He was aware that it was a growing trend for females to wear trousers and other items that had once been reserved solely for men. He thought of some of Regina’s outfits, with thick leggings that clung to her, and the plunging necklines that, had he ever thought of her as anything  _ _other__ than an apprentice, he would have greatly appreciated. But this was Belle; sweet, gentle, kind Belle, whose bosom was more revealed now than he’d ever seen it. And though he couldn’t see her legs for the table hiding them, he was easily able to recollect the shapely form of them wrapped in tight fabric; strong from her days cleaning his castle, and no doubt walking from place to place now.

She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not amused by his staring. “You look the same as ever.”

He took a long swig of his drink, grateful for something to distract himself with. Bringing his gaze back to her, intently focusing on keeping his eyes on her face and not the expanse of delectable skin open to his (and others) viewing pleasure.

“I’m serious,” he said gently. “You look lovely.”

“So I get told frequently,” she said as she took another large sip of her ale. Swallowing, she continued, “Apparently the saying about men’s brains turning to mush at seeing a bit of skin applies to the Dark One as well. Must mean there’s a man in there somewhere, after all.”

He flushed, taken back by her blunt words. She’d always been very vocal with her thoughts, but this Belle, the one who had been traded in a deal, yelled at, tossed away, and apparently ogled at every turn, was much more blunt and no-nonsense.

“I can only speak for myself,” he said.

“Well, speak then,” She said softly, and he realized then that she was trying her best not to allow her emotions to break through. Her hands were trembling slightly and he realized that their unexpected meeting had thrown her as much as it had him. “What do you want?”

“Come back with me,” he spoke before he even realized he’d been thinking it.

She blanched, and his eyes wondered down again.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” she commented harshly, but her eyes glistened with tears, and if they’d been in a more secluded place, he would have reached out to wipe them away.

“I do,” he whispered huskily. “I do want you, Belle.”

“You had a horrible way of showing it.”

“Come back with me and I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you,” he begged. He would give her anything, so long as she returned with him. He wasn’t fond of her being away from him, and now that he knew what she was hiding behind those modest corsets and flowing skirts, he longed to keep her all to himself, if only to keep her from being ogled by others. “I should never have made you leave. I want you, Belle. Come back with me.”

She smiled then, relieved at his words. “I want you, too,” she admitted, “But I still want to finish my adventure.”

“And what adventure is that?” He asked and she pulled out a book from the satchel she’d been carrying.

“I want to find the Yaoguai,” she said, and the Belle he knew - the one who was sweet and caring and longed for adventure and looked upon him with kindness and love - was back.

The only change - and for the better, Rumplestiltskin thought - was her new apparel.

“I think we can manage that,” he said with a sly grin.

She grinned, finished her beer and tossed a couple coins onto the table.

“Didn’t you have a deal?” She asked and he waved his hand dismissively.

“I have more important things to take care of, at present.”                          

“Then let’s go,” she said. “The sooner we find it, the sooner we can go home.” She stood, making her way out of the tavern and Rumple followed behind her, admiring the view the entire way. 


	18. Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Gold find Baelfire in NY.

They stood, staring in stunned silence at the marker before them. Gold’s face was frozen in an image of anguish and disbelief, and Belle touched his arm gently, hesitantly.  
  
“Maybe the globe was wrong,” she whispered encouragingly. “Maybe this is just a coincidence.”  
  
He shook his head, but just barely. “No,” he choked out, tears welling in his eyes. “This is him. And he’s de-”  
  
He broke then, leg giving out on him, and Belle wrapped her arms around his waist, sliding to the ground with him. Gold was sobbing, tears streaming down his face in a rushing flow, and Belle could think of nothing to do but hold him as he wept.  
  
His sobs were mixed with cries of his son’s name and expressions of how it wasn’t fair and that the price of magic was too high. Belle could only hold on, wincing slightly as he finally turned to her for comfort, squeezing her to him in a choking hold. She could hardly breathe in his grasp, but she said nothing, merely squeezed him tighter, letting him mourn as he wished.  
  
When his body could produce no more tears, and the only movement on his part was the involuntary quivers and shakes from his dry sobs, Belle pulled away from him- just barely- and he looked at her fearfully, afraid she was going to leave him too.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Rumple,” She said, running her hands over his back lovingly. “I’m so, so sorry.  
  
"If only I hadn’t brought magic,” he lamented.  
  
Belle shook her head. “Rumple,” she began, but did not continue. What good would it do to remind him that it wouldn’t have mattered if he brought magic either way? What good would it do to remind him what he’d already seen on the grave stone? That his son had been dead for over ten years had nothing to do with Rumple bringing magic to this world after the curse ended. It merely prolonged him from finding this.  
  
From having his heart completely ripped from him.  
  
And to Rumple, that was what it felt like. He’d never removed his own heart- some things were too horrific even for him- but he imagined that the feeling was similar to this. A loss of hope, a loss of joy, a loss of everything good he’d ever felt, gone.  
  
It was only the gentle touch of the woman beside him that kept him from truly going mad.  
  
He held Belle closer then, clinging to her like the lost soul that he was, and she held him back, clinging to the hope that he would overcome this as he had all things.  
  
“You never gave up,” she whispered. “No matter what, you never gave up. And I think he knew that.”  
  
“He called me a coward,” Rumple whispered brokenly, and Belle reached over to wipe away his tears. “That was the last thing he ever said to me.”  
  
“You can’t dwell on that,” Belle encouraged softly. “Think of the good memories you had with your son. Think of how much you sacrificed to find him now. And you  _have_  found him, Rumple. It’s the worst way to find him, but you found him.”  
  
Rumple nodded numbly, staring at the stone before him, wanting nothing more than to destroy the cruel reminder that he had failed.  
  
He may have found his son, but he wanted nothing more than to go back to that sweet ignorance of not knowing his son’s fate. Surely not knowing was better than this emptiness?  
  
Belle seemed to sense his thoughts- she had always been able to read him like one of her books- and clutched his hand.  
  
“You can have closure now,” She said. “I know it isn’t encouraging, but you have found him. Now you can continue with life. He would want that for you. He wouldn’t want you to grieve forever.”  
  
“All I’ve done since I lost him is grieve,” Rumple admitted and Belle wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with her.  
  
“It’s all I know how to do,” he continued.  
  
She shook her head. “You know how to love,” she said. “Look at everything you’ve done. It’s all been for him. Every thought, every deal, was a way to him. Look at me,” she said, eyes brimming with tears. “Look at  _me_ , Rumple. Please tell me you know how much your love means to me.”  
  
Again, he embraced her, a sob escaping him as he whispered, “I do.”  
  
“Tell him how you care for him, then,” she whispered. “Talk to your son. Tell him everything.” He gave her a strange look as he pulled away and he gently caressed his cheek. “I used to visit my mother’s grave and talk to her. I knew she couldn’t answer, but I always felt better after I talked to her. Maybe you just need to talk to your son.”  
  
She stood then, wiping the dirt and grass from her dress and pointed to a small bench a few feet away. “I’ll wait there, to give you some privacy.”  
  
She leaned down to kiss him on his cheek, hair brushing his face as she turned and walked away. She sat on the bench, hands folded neatly in her lap, looking away as she did her best to give him the privacy she felt he needed for this.  
  
He felt foolish, but he scooted closer to the headstone. Reaching out to touch it gently, as if he were caressing his child’s face he whispered, “Hello, Son.”


	19. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They dance in his shop. Prompted by Piccolascintilla

She was in the back of the shop, humming softly to the music playing on the radio. Just as she did every Tuesday, she closed the library at six and headed immediately to Gold’s shop, where she perused through the shop while she waited for him to finish his business and walk to Granny’s together for dinner. It was a weekly tradition and both Gold and Belle relished it – a bit of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic and unpredictable town.

He was at the front desk, tinkering with an antique that someone had brought in hoping he could fix. He was having no luck repairing the small pocket watch, but not because he couldn’t figure out the problem. He was having difficulty because all he could focus on was Belle, on the other side of the partition, humming to the soft melody and no doubt touching every object that caught her attention with reverent interest.

The song changed, and he could hear her soft breathy gasp of delight. Apparently she was fond of this song, and she began to hum again, this time a little louder. Curiosity finally getting the better of him, Gold wrapped the pocket watch in the handkerchief it had been delivered in, and placed it in a small chest that was reserved for items he was currently fixing. He reached for his cane and limped over to the curtain. Pushing it aside, he took a quiet step in, pausing with instant delight at the sight before him.

The song was a waltz, and Belle was currently swept up in the arms of a phantom partner, twirling around the back room. Her eyes were open, for which he was glad because as lovely as she was, she was especially clumsy, and the last thing he wanted was for her to crash and break more of his precious items – though he’d cherish them even more should she do so.

He must have done something to catch her attention because she looked right at him, eyes wide with surprise and she instantly dropped her arms to her sides, blushing furiously. “I, um,” she stuttered, “I was dancing,” she explained sheepishly, as if he had no idea what she was doing.

“So I gathered,” he smirked and her blush grew brighter. It was a lovely shade on her, but the last thing he wanted was for her to feel embarrassed. He took a careful step forward, and extended his hand to her. “However your previous partner left much to be desired.”

She giggled, despite her embarrassment and stepped forward to take his hand. “I love this song,” she said.

He smiled. “Then you should dance to it,” he declared, tugging on her hand to bring her closer.

She glanced down. “But your leg-” she whispered and he pulled her even closer, tossing his cane carelessly onto the old sofa against the wall.

“-Still works, despite it all,” he said, making it clear that he would pay the price of pain in order to share a dance with her. That seemed to appease her, and she gently placed her other hand upon his shoulder. He wrapped his free hand around her waist, waited for the proper count, and swept her up in time with the music.

Their movements around the room were not as graceful as when she’d dancing alone, but she seemed to be enjoying herself, stepping lightly with him and humming along. He spun her out, and she laughed happily as he pulled her back in. He caught her closely and she stared up at him with adoration.

He moved them about the room again, his leg protesting with every step, but he ignored it because the look in Belle’s eyes was enough of a driving force to keep him moving in this manner for the rest of his life.

When the song ended after several long moments they stilled, but instead of letting go Belle wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush against him for a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered before pulling away. She retrieved his cane and gave it to him, and he thanked her with a light kiss.

They shut off the radio and the lights, and Gold closed up the shop. They made their way to Granny’s for dinner, as they did every Tuesday evening, and as they walked Gold pondered aloud if perhaps a waltz before dinner would be an acceptable addition to their weekly routine.

He was rewarded with a kiss, and he took that as a yes.


	20. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumbelle and Swanfire have a double date at Granny’s. Prompted by Mayor-French.

In all the things Rumplestiltskin imagined doing with his son once they were reunited, going on a double date with him and their respective True Loves was not on the list.  
  
And he’d made a list.  
  
But there he was, sitting at a booth at Granny’s - the  _only_  place in the cursed town to get a decent meal - next to Belle who looked lovely in a pretty blue dress. Across from him sat Neal and Emma, who looked almost as uncomfortable as Gold felt.  
  
Belle seemed to sense the unease, and began engaging both Neal and Emma, asking them about their lives, what they thought of Storybrooke, and the one thing that united them all: Henry.  
  
Henry seemed a subject both Neal and Emma could discuss without difficulty and Gold was grateful that Belle seemed able to draw people out of their shells. She’d done it with him; now she was doing it with his son.  
  
Emma was recounting a mishap that had occurred during Henry’s so-called Operation: Cobra, and by the time she finished, everyone at the table was laughing joyfully, fully unaware of the strange glances they were receiving from the other patrons in the restaurant.  
  
“That kid is nuts,” Neal exclaimed, taking a deep breath to try to calm down. Emma rolled her eyes.  
  
“Please,” she exclaimed, “You were just as bad.”  
  
“She’s right,” Gold agreed. “You were a mischievous child. I can think of several similar stories in which you-”  
  
“And that’s where we change the subject,” Neal said quickly. “I’m not letting you embarrass me in front of our girlfriends. Not happening.”  
  
Gold smirked, but remained quiet. The conversation changed again, the focus turning to Belle. Emma and Neal began asking her about how she met Gold and she began the story, pausing only when Granny brought out their orders. She nibbled on a few fries and recounted Rumple’s stunned expression both when she’d hugged him for the first time and when he’d caught her when she fell.  
  
Again, Gold remained quiet, preferring to listen to Belle tell of their time together. She sugar coated several parts, telling his son that they’d parted due to a misunderstanding, never mentioning the misunderstanding had caused her to end up spending 28 years in an asylum.  
  
He wondered if she’d edited their tale in an effort to keep the conversation happy and light, or if she was doing it to ensure Neal heard nothing negative come from her lips.  
  
Either way he was grateful.  
  
The topics continued to change as they ate and Gold began to open up, asking his son about his time with Emma. They shared a smile and spoke of their time together and it warmed Gold’s heart that not only had his son found someone who truly cared for him, but that someone happened to be the savior of their world, the product of True Love.  
  
Silently, he approved of Emma Swan, deciding it was the ONE thing Snow White and Prince Charming had done right. He reached down and squeezed Belle’s leg, pleased with how the meal had gone and she offered him a slight smile.  
  
The bill came, and Gold handed over a couple bills, ignoring the protests of his son. They stood, Gold helping Belle into her jacket. The girls walked ahead, discussing plans to get together with Snow and Ruby for a girl’s night and Neal caught his father by the arm.  
  
“Thanks for this,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. “I had a good time. I’m pretty sure Emma did too.”  
  
“I’m very glad to hear that,” Gold said softly and Neal shuffled his feet before speaking again.  
  
“Maybe we could do it next week?” He asked hesitantly.  
  
Gold smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.  
  
They were about to exit, when Belle rushed in. “Emma got a call,” she said to Neal, “She said she’d call you when she was finished.”  
  
Neal nodded and went to take a step but Belle stopped him again. “She and I were talking,” Belle began, “And we thought it might be fun to do this again. Maybe next week?”  
  
Gold and Neal exchanged glances, leaving Belle confused. “What?” She asked.  
  
Gold shook his head and Neal replied, “Nothing,” he smiled. “Next week sounds great.”


	21. Clumsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is usually clumsy and tends to fall but Rumple will always be there to catch her.

Belle was clumsy.  
  
It was the one thing about her that Rumplestiltskin knew with absolute certainty. She was lovely, but had little grace. It began within the first week of their life together, when he noticed that  she’d tripped over the hem if her long golden dress six times in one day - not that he counted - and so he’d given her a shorter dress.  
  
And yet she still managed to trip.  
  
The first time her clumsiness had put her in any real danger had been when she’d stood on the ladder, trying to open the curtains and teasing him about nailing them down. She pulled just a little too hard and before she’d even realized she was falling, she’d landed safely in his arms, both staring at each other in confusion.  
  
The next time she fell, she was standing on a chair, trying to reach something in the back of the highest shelf in the pantry. Rumple happened to wander into the kitchen - he certainly wasn’t looking for her - and saw her leaning forward, the chair balancing dangerously on two legs, and he rushed over to her. She managed to reach the item she was looking for just in time for the chair’s balance to tip and send her tumbling down-  
  
Right into Rumplestiltskin’s arms.  
  
She gave him a sheepish smile and he helped set her back onto her feet and she tried to ignore the warmth in her belly as she told him his tea would be ready in just a few moments.  
  
If ladders and chairs were Belle’s foes then the stairs were her arch nemesis. She had tripped going both up and down the stairs, usually when trying to carry too many items at once. He’d been there to catch her on her more dangerous trips on the stairs, often reaching out to catch an item that was about to fall, or to steady her if she lost her  balance.

On this particular day, she was taken out by her enemy while trying to read as she walked. She ascended the stairs, too interested in her book to put it down even for a few moments. She reached the top without realizing it, and her next step was ill taken and she could feel herself about to crash to the floor.  
  
She found herself, once again, in Rumplestiltskin’s arms, mere inches away from the floor. She flushed and was about to explain herself when Rumple commented, “I’m beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose.”  
  
He stood her up, but did not let go and she giggled. “I’m beginning to think your castle is trying to kill me.”  
  
He smiled at her, a brief, flickering gesture, then removed his hands from her and bent down to pick up her book. Handing it to her he said, “Try to be more careful, dearie,” he teased, “I may not always be around to catch you.”  
  
He turned to walk away but froze as she called out after him, “And yet you’ve always been there.”  
  
-000-  
  
“Careful, dearest. I’d hate for you to fall,” Gold said as he watched Belle balance herself on the top of a ladder, organizing the books on the shelf.  
  
“I’m not going to fall, Rumple,” she sighed dramatically. “Honestly, you worry far too much.”  
  
“I only worry because you have a habit of trying to defy gravity - and failing,” he said with a frown. She rolled her eyes and reached up to put a book in its place. Smiling in satisfaction, she began to climb down the ladder. Halfway down - true to her nature - her foot slipped and she fell.  
  
Into Gold’s arms.  
  
Onto the floor.  
  
They laid in an undignified heap, Belle brushing her hair out of her face to look down at Rumple, who was flat on his back and giving her a knowing look. “Not going to fall, hmm?” He asked, somewhat breathlessly and Belle giggled.  
  
“I was just testing you,” she said playfully, rolling off him to allow him to breathe.  
  
“I may not be as light on my feet as I was back in the old world,” he exclaimed as he sat up, pulling her close to him. “But I will  _always_ catch you when you fall.”  
  
“Even if it means you’ll fall too?” Belle asked with a smile.  
  
Leaning in to kiss her, Gold whispered, “Oh, Belle, I fell long ago.”

She rolled her eyes, laughed at his statement, and pulled him in for another kiss.


	22. Belle in Neverland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle saves Gold in Neverland. Prompted by Piccolascintilla.

Despite his warnings, despite his pleading, despite the fact that the two people that had hurt her the most were on the shop as well, Belle insisted she go with them to Neverland.

  
Even if he had told her no, it would have made little difference. The last time he’d told her to stay away from the pirate’s ship, the first thing she’d done was go straight to it.  
  
He knew better than to try to tell her what to do, even if he was looking out for her safety because she never listened.  
  
And so she went with him onto the Jolly Roger to join the search for his grandson. His undoing, so he believed.  
  
She stayed by him at all times, doing her best to keep him away from Regina and Hook, and keeping the peace between them when they had to be near. She had her own opinions of the two, none of them positive, but she kept her feelings to herself, more worried about Rumple and whether or not they would find Henry.  
  
And what would happen if they did.  
  
They reached Neverland, both Gold and Regina using their newly restored and no longer unpredictable magic to assist them in their search. Their return to a magical land had transformed Gold back into his impish state, which seemed to surprise no one except Emma, but she did her best to not let him catch her staring.  
  
After a few days, thanks to Belle’s incredible ability to track, they found him. Considering the search party consisted of some of the most powerful creatures in the land, it should have come as no surprise to Tamara and Greg that they’d been found. But they had been surprised, and therefore unprepared. Their ally, however, was ready for them.  
  
They’d aligned with the deadly creature known as Peter Pan, and there had been tremendous fighting in order to rescue Henry.  
  
Belle had done her part, surprising everyone yet again with her skill with a weapon, as well as her tactical abilities. Rumple had been most impressed, amazed that his sweet Belle was able to take charge and figure out their enemies weakness.  
  
Then again, she’d spent countless hours in the war room in her father’s kingdom, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised but he pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time to think about the past.  
  
-000-

Despite their best efforts, Fate could not be avoided.  As the prophecy had stated, Rumplestiltskin was undone.  
  
It came down to a choice, The Dark one for the boy, and Rumple hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to the terms.  
  
He’d come here expecting to die. He’d told Belle as much but she refused to accept it.  
  
Henry was pleading for them not to let his grandfather do this, the Charming’s and Emma were torn, and Regina begged him to do the right thing which, had the situation not been so dire, would have made him laugh.  
  
He informed their enemies that he would not give himself up until the boy was safe with his family. Having no real choice, they let him go and Henry raced into his family’s arms, embracing them tightly. He looked at Rumple with tears in his eyes, and Rumple merely smiled at the boy. He turned to Belle, who was crying as well and he embraced her.  
  
“I love you,” he whispered.  
  
She looked at him then, and he could see the wheels in her head turning. She glanced over to Peter Pan, the shadow waiting impatiently, clearly uncaring that a family was about to be torn apart.  
  
“I’m sorry, Rumple,” she whispered.  
  
He opened his mouth to ask her what he meant, but she grabbed him and pressed her mouth to his, holding him tightly in True Love’s Kiss.  
  
She pulled away a moment later, smiling when his face once again looked like Mr. Gold’s. He looked down, confused, then back up at her with a devious smirk.  
  
They’d wanted the Dark One. And the Dark One was no more.  
  
Peter Pan roared with rage, and Tamara and Greg stepped forward to try to reclaim Henry, but Regina, with the help of Emma, threw up a barrier that kept them back. They took off running, toward the ship, and quickly set sail back to Storybrooke, where they would be safe.  
  
Once they felt they were out of danger, Henry rushed to embrace Rumple, thanking him for saving him, then hugging Belle and thanking her for saving Rumple. Belle had simply smiled at the boy and held him close.

-000-  
  
That night they laid in their makeshift bed, Belle holding onto Rumple tightly. He smiled as he ran his fingers up and down her arm.  
  
“Looks as if the prophecy was right,” he said absently. “Though I imagined my undoing would leave me more…undone.”  
  
“I’m not complaining,” Belle said gently and he laughed.  
  
“Oh, I’m not either,” he said, “Believe me, I’m quite happy with the results all things considered.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said as she sat up to look down at him. “I know you need your magic, but I need you. I couldn’t let you go.”  
  
He flicked his hand then, and a swirl of purple mist flowed out, and when it dissipated, he handed her the rose that was now in his hand.

“And I need you too.” She gaped at the rose, then back at him.  
  
“How?” She asked and he could only shrug.  
  
“My only guess is that by using True Love’s Kiss to save me, all it cost was the curse itself. Not the magic. You merely took away my curse.”  
  
She gave him a wry glance. “You are a man of many talents, Mr. Gold,” she teased. “And you never cease to surprise me.”

He leaned up and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I could say the same of you, sweetheart,” He whispered gently, “Now, let’s get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

Belle curled against him and they drifted off to sleep, while the Jolly Roger carried them home.


	23. Rumbelle Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family is reunited after Neverland.

There was a commotion outside and Belle looked up from the book she was reading to see what was going on. She was sitting in Granny’s diner, hamburger and iced tea abandoned in favor of the story in her hands, and she looked over at Granny who was wiping down the counter.

“Beat’s me,” Granny said, anticipating Belle’s question. “Probably should go find out.” She walked into the kitchen and returned a moment later with her crossbow in hand, motioning her head for Belle to follow. Marking her place in her book, Belle left it in the booth and followed Granny out the door.

There were a few people rushing toward the docks, all clamoring about “them being back”. Belle shot a look at Granny, who told her to go on, and Belle took off running as fast as her high heels would let her.

She arrived at the docks and bumped carelessly into Leroy who turned, a sharp remark on the tip of his tongue, but he held it when he saw Belle.

“Looks like their back, Sister,” he said, a small smile at his lips. Belle grinned and looked up to where the ship was coming into shore. She could make out the figures of several people, Emma’s blonde hair blowing in the wind the most clear. She gripped Leroy’s hand in excitement, wishing she had magic to make the ship dock sooner.

Finally it  _ _did__  dock, and the passengers began to disembark. She and Leroy, and now Granny who had finally caught up with her, were standing to the side, allowing for the citizens of Storybrooke to welcome the Charming’s and their daughter and grandson home. They crowded around them, asking questions, offering assistance and wishing them well. Regina came of next, and it was of no surprise to Belle that no one welcomed her. She seemed upset by that fact, but said nothing and merely trailed behind the crowd, watching with slight jealousy as her step-daughter and her family were treated like the royalty they were.

Belle began to fidget with nervous anticipation, wondering where Rumple was. Finally, she could see him begin to descend the stairs from the ship to the dock, a grown man behind him, but she paid that no mind.

Dropping Leroy’s hand, she rushed forward, his name flying from her lips as she did so and he looked up, his eyes weary but wide, and she rushed up the remaining stairs and into his arms.

He let his cane fall, and it clattered down the steps and onto the dock. He pressed her to him, tears falling from his eyes and he whispered her name over and over. She clung to him, crying her own tears of joy and relief, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw, desperate for as much contact with his skin as she could get.

He pulled her back slightly and she stepped down a step so that he towered over her even more than normal. Hands instantly threading through her hair, he let out a relieved laugh and smiled at her.

“I’m back,” he said gently and she placed her hands on his arms, squeezing him gently.

“And you aren’t going anywhere else ever again,” she said. “Not without me.”

“Believe me, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve had enough travel to last me a lifetime.”

“I second that,” the man behind them said and Belle looked past Rumple to see the man she now recognized as –

“Baelfire?!” She gasped.

He stepped down so that he was next to his father and reached out a hand to her. “I don’t think we’ve ever been  _ _properly__  introduced,” he said. “I’m Neal. Or Baelfire. His son,” he said tilting his head toward Rumplestiltskin. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Belle took her hand and shook it, smiling up at them both with surprise. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said gently.

Rumple stepped down a step and leaned over to press a kiss to Belle’s forehead. “Let’s find a place where the ground doesn’t  _ _move__ ,” he said lightly. “I’m afraid the sea and I don’t fare well together.”

They made their way off the ship and onto solid ground. Granny and Leroy were waiting for them. Leroy handed the Dark One his cane. He nodded in thanks to the dwarf and Granny hoisted her crossbow against her shoulder.

“The three of you are coming to the diner to get a decent meal,” she declared. “No doubt all of you could use a good meal.”

They all agreed that a hot meal would be perfect, and they made their way toward Granny’s, Belle holding tightly onto Rumple’s hand. And she had no intention of letting go.


	24. Belle's Memories Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn’t have time to weep or feel sorry for herself. She had a town to save.

He looked into her eyes and he saw  _ _Belle.__  Recognition darkened the blue of her own eyes as she reached forward, sobbing out his name. Unable to finish saying it because her lips were on his and they were kissing with desperation.

Tears welled in her eyes as the memories Lacey held began to merge with her own and she realized the look of sorrow and defeat in her love’s eyes was not just because of their imminent death.

“You lost your son. I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she clutched him to her, shushing him as he whispered of his failures. “You aren’t a failure,” she argued, knowing it was pointless to do so, but desperate to ease any of the pain he felt so strongly.

She could feel it too.

She was frantic to make him feel something other than pain – which was the same thing she was feeling and she was tired of pain and heartache and loss and loneliness. She was ready for a heart that burst of love, not of despair – she pressed him to the table, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed their lips together, desperate for a spark of  _ _something.__

They found their something together, moving clumsily into the back of the shop, falling onto the couch that had once been Rumple’s death bed and tore at each other’s clothes, both of them needing to rid Belle of the tangible traces of  _ _Lacey.__

The made love, fast, hard, and sorrowful, but it was what they both needed. It was the fuel that fired them and allowed them to feel something worth feeling and they grasped for every sensation, every hitched breath and gasp and moan. They needed it as much as they needed to live, and if that wasn’t a possibility, at least they could die knowing that their hearts still beat to the tune of love.

When they were spent and could no longer move, limbs heavy and weak, Belle sighed and pressed herself closer to Rumplestiltskin. If she had no choice but to die, she would choose for it to be this way.

The ground shook, and for a moment Belle held her breath thinking that it was the end.

And then nothing happened.

Belle and Rumple glanced at each other, confusion covering both their faces and they quickly untangled themselves from the blanket that was draped over them and began to dress, almost as frantically as they’d undressed, and rushed outside. The vines, branches, and other forms of nature that had been steadily covering Storybrooke were vanishing and Belle and Rumple looked at each other with hesitant surprise.

Perhaps they weren’t going to die after all.

-000-

They were at the docks, and Rumple was preparing to get on the Jolly Roger to go after his grandson. Naturally Belle was inclined to join him – not follow him but walk beside him as his partner and equal – but he held his hand up to stop her.

He told her that he needed to protect her; that he needed her to protect the town. That she had to stay behind and although Belle wanted nothing more than to stamp her foot and proclaim that it wasn’t fair and she was going whether he liked it or not, she kept herself in check as she thought of those still in Storybrooke. She thought of the people she’d left behind to save from the ogres. To save them she’d had to leave them. So save those in Storybrooke, she had to stay.

It wasn’t fair; but she knew she had to do it. Her father hadn’t asked her to save her people yet she’d willingly done it. But Rumple  _ _was__ asking her. He was asking her to save her – their – people and she would be damned if she shirked her duties now. She took the small scroll and tucked it safely in her pocket, then pulled Rumplestiltskin to her, holding him close, kissing him deeply, and declaring that he would be back.

They would all be back.

She told him his son would be proud, because his son  _ _would__  have been proud; but she did not tell him how much she loved him. She did not tell him goodbye. Those were things that hinted of an end; and this was not an end for them.

He boarded the Jolly Roger, looking down to see Belle standing on the docks, the wind blowing her hair in wild brown waves. He waved to her and she returned the gesture, a small, sad smile on her lips. The ship set sail and Belle turned her back on the docks and returned to town, her hand gripping the scroll in her pocket. Determination hung over her like magic. Her steps were quick but she moved with clear purpose.

She didn’t have time to weep or to feel sorry for herself.

She had a town to save.


	25. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold almost drowns.

They’d borrowed Grumpy’s boat and set sail. It was meant to be a short trip; long enough for them to have lunch at sea, away from anyone who might need him for something, but it seemed that Belle and Rumple were never meant to have a moment of peace.

The wind had picked up and the small boat rocked dangerously on the waves. One wave crashed into the boat harder than the rest, causing Rumple to lose his balance and topple into the water.

He’d never learned to swim, his days as a spinner in a village far from the sea making it unnecessary to learn how. And after he’d mangled his leg he wouldn’t have been able to learn.

These things Belle knew, and instinct kicked in, causing her to jump overboard immediately in pursuit of her love.

She found him quickly and grabbed him by the waist, using all her strength to pull him to the boat. He pulled himself up and over, landing with and undignified  _ _thump__  on the deck, coughing and struggling for breath.  

Belle pulled herself on board as well, landing half on top of him. He continued to cough and spit out water that he had swallowed. When he was finished, he looked down at the girl in his lap and scowled. “What were you thinking?” He asked. “You could have gotten hurt.”

She shrugged and pulled herself up to a sitting position. “I was thinking I needed to help you,” she shot back and he forced himself to not to chide her. She had saved him and he should be grateful.

“Can you even swim?” He asked her after a moment, curious. She’d never lived near the sea either and he doubted a Lady would be permitted to go swimming in a lake.

She shook her head. “No, but I read about it at the library.”

He laughed despite being upset that she’d put herself in danger for him.

“Of course you did, dearie,” he said affectionately. “Now, why don’t we get back to land? I think I’ve had my fill of life at sea.”

Belle agreed and they made their way back to shore.  


	26. Rumbelle/Frankenwolf Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double date with Rumbelle and Frankenwolf.

Whale and Gold glared at each other, the incident outside the Rabbit Hole still fresh in their minds. Both were eager for the other to slip up; to say something out of line so they could finish what had been started that day.

If Belle and Red were aware of the tension between their men, they ignored it, instead talking amiably together about Belle’s plans for the library and Red’s plans to take over the diner after Granny retired.

“It’s a bit daunting,” Red admitted, “But I think I can do it.”

“Of course you can!” Belle exclaimed, patting her friend’s hand. “I have no doubt that you can do some great things with the diner.”

“I do plan on making a few changes,” Red said sheepishly, “Though I haven’t told Granny that. I think she’d have a heart attack.”

“First change should be not charging so much for extra pickles,” Gold grumbled as he popped a slice of pickle in his mouth.

The four of them had met at the park, Belle bring a couple large blankets and Red bringing food from the diner. They’d been planning a double date for some time, and though the men were reluctant, both were also entirely at their love’s beck and calls, and had begrudgingly agreed to endure the other man’s presence.

Red chuckled while Whale rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you consider lowering the rent, I’ll consider giving you extra pickles at no charge,” Red winked.

Gold couldn’t help but laugh and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Whale, who still wanted nothing more than to perform all sorts of bizarre and horrific scientific experiments on the man across from him, decided to take his thoughts away from something so dark and turned his attention to Belle.

“So, how are you feeling?” He asked, his cursed medical training taking over. “How are you adjusting to having your memories restored? No dizziness, confusion, or headaches?”

Belle shook her head. “No,” she told him, “I feel fine. Just trying to get used to having two sets of memories.”

Red nodded. “Tell me about it,” she said. “When I remembered, I could hardly believe some of the memoires I had. I said and did some awful things. And my wardrobe? Some of those outfits were a little much.”

“I don’t know,” Whale said, teasing her, “I was rather fond of some of them.”

That earned him a smack, and Belle and Red laughed.

“Regina did have strange plans for some of us,” Belle observed.

“And yet many of them were oddly appropriate,” Gold commented, earning a strange look from Belle.

“Gold is right,” Whale admitted begrudgingly. “Red and I talked about this not too long ago. There were so many things I wanted to forget; things I wished for so long I could not remember and for twenty-eight years I had the absolute bliss of just being a womanizing doctor who  _ _didn’t__  turn his brother into a monster.”

“And I wasn’t a wolf who ate the people she cared about,” Red commented sadly. Whale reached over and grasped her hand, earning him a small smile.

“I wasn’t a cursed monster who abandoned his only son and threw out his True Love in a fit of rage,” Gold whispered, earning a sympathetic glance from Red.

“Sounds like you three got the better end of the deal, then,” Belle said sadly. “She left me with no memories whatsoever.”

“How did you survive that?” Red asked, astonishment in her voice. “How did you not go mad?”

Belle shrugged. “I have no idea.”

A silence fell over them then, the dark, haunting memories of their past lives, cursed selves, and present selves covering them like a thick fog. They all had so many memories to sort through; so many opinions and beliefs and views that made them who they were. They were no longer who they were in the forest. They were no longer their cursed selves. They all had to find a balance, and it was no easy task.

It was Gold who broke out of the fog first. “I think,” He mused, “That regardless of the pain we’ve all endured, this curse was probably the best thing to ever happen to us.”

“How so?” Red asked, genuinely curious.

“Well,” Gold began, “Without it, you two would have never met; I would not have been reunited with Belle, and I wouldn’t have found my son.” He paused, and then added, “And I wouldn’t have the chance to spend time with such truly extraordinary people. It’s been a long time since I’ve been treated even remotely civilly.”

“Same here,” Whale said. “I mean, everyone knew me as the guy who just chased the ladies. And after the fiasco at the bar, I figured I’d be the last person either of you would want to see.”

Belle offered him a smile. “I think things have just been a bit chaotic lately,” she said. “People overreact.”

“True,” Whale agreed. “But I have to admit, despite my expectations, this double date the two of you planned was a rather splendid idea.”

Belle and Ruby exchanged scheming glances. “Perfect,” Belle said. “Because we’ve already made plans to have a triple date with Snow and Charming next week.”

The two men looked at each other with dread.  “He still hasn’t forgiven me for sleeping with his wife,” Whale groaned.

“And those two are partially responsible for us never having an uninterrupted lunch date,” Gold griped. “And you want to invite them to join us?”

Belle and Ruby merely exchanged humored glances and laughed.


	27. The Queen of Storybrooke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OUAT/Breaking Bad Crossover centered on the idea that the Genie left Storybrooke and assumed the identity of Gus, mild mannered businessman/meth seller. Prompted by my husband, Jarethshole.

Regina stood at her window, peering out the blinds as the denizens of Storybrooke passed her office, each with their own purpose.

Regina laughed. The poor fools had no idea they were under a curse, all of them blind to the other life they had lived once upon a time. She watched as Ashley Boyd walked down the street, hand pressed lightly to her swollen belly.  _ _Cinderella,__  Regina thought wickedly as she watched the girl make her way down the street. The poor little servant girl who’d changed her stars and married a prince now a poor, lowly pregnant teen who had to steal to make ends meet.

She watched as Mary Margaret Blanchard walked primly down the street, purse on her shoulder and school bag in her hand. Mary Margaret, the very bane of her existence. Regina had loathed her -  _ _Snow White -__  for so long, and now that the curse was complete and the poor, stupid girl had no idea who she really was, Regina rejoiced in her victory. The curse had been a success and had been so for as long as she could remember.

She watched as others passed by, recounting their true identities as she did so. She smiled cruelly as Geppetto passed by. She sneered at the dwarves who passed, recounting each of them by name.  _ _Happy, Sneezy, Doc, Dopey, Bashful, Sleepy, and Grumpy.__  She hated them all and rejoiced in their suffering.

They may not  _ _know__  they were suffering, but they were. And that was what mattered.

And then Mr. Gold passed by and Regina stumbled. Her memory of the man was beginning to grow fuzzy but she could faintly recall that his true name began with an  _ _R. Who was he,__  She thought to herself, reaching into the depths of her memory to try to bring the name forth.

She could not and she began to fret. Her magic; her immunity to the curse was fading again.

She knew her supply of magic that would keep her safe from the curse’s power was running low and she knew that she needed to get a fresh supply, quickly. She grabbed her cell phone and searched through the contacts until she found the name she needed.

She pressed the button on her phone that read  _ _Genie__  and held the phone up to her ears. The phone connected to someone on the other end and she smiled as she greeted him, “Genie.”

“Gus,” the voice on the other end stated gently, a trace of amusement in his voice.

Cutting right to the chase, Regina spoke, “I need more magic,” she said. “I can feel my power draining. You have to help.”

She could almost feel the man on the other end of the phone nod stoically. “I can have another batch sent to you within three days. Will that be sufficient?”

“Yes,” Regina said. “That will be just fine. I’ll have the usual payment ready, shall I?”

“Yes, thank you,” Gus, the “Genie” said with a soft, solid voice. “Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

The phone clicked and there was silence. Regina wondered absently why he always sounded mocking when he referred to her by her proper title. She  _ _was__  the Queen, evil or not, and she was using his services to make sure her people remembered just how powerful she was.

She groaned in pain then, realizing her magic was fading faster as her thoughts began to merge into a confusing jumble. She rummaged through the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a small plastic bag. She poured a small bit of the contents onto her desk, arranging it into a neat little line.

She took a straw that was cut in half and placed one end at the line of crushed blue crystals –  _ _magic__ , the man had said.  _ _Magic of this world.­__  - and the other end to her nose. Inhaling deeply, she coughed, groaned, and then slumped into her seat, her head spinning and a fire soaring through her veins.

She could feel her magic returning to her all ready. She was  _ _Regina__ again; She was the Queen of Storybrooke.  


	28. Suitcase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle debates on whether to see the world without Rumplestiltskin.

He finds her standing over a half-packed suitcase, crying.

Instantly worried, he rushes to her, surprising her by his presence. She flings herself into his arms, her tears increasing, and he merely holds her to him, relieved to be home but worried at what has caused her such distress.   
  
He steps away from her, still keeping her in his arms because the thought of not touching her is unbearable, and asks her why she is so upset.

She shakes her head and gestures helplessly to the suitcase. “Baelfire suggested I get away for a while,” she said, her voice thick from crying. “And I was going to. I was going to go away for a while but then I started worrying about what would happen if you came back and I wasn’t here and-”   
  
She broke off, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. “And now you’re here and I don’t know what I was even thinking.”

She reaches out to hug him again and he returns the embrace, shushing her and whispering gentle words to her. He’s never seen his Belle so distraught before. Even after everything she’s endured, the one thing that can cause her strength to crumple is the thought of leaving him alone.

“It’s all right, dearest,” he says soothingly, letting his hands rub up and down her back. “You’re not gone, and I’m here and we’re all right.”   
  
She nods, but he knows she isn’t satisfied.

“I just feel so guilty about even considering it in the first place,” she admits after a while, leaving his embrace to sit on the bed, next to the opened suitcase. Gold leans over his cane to scoot it back, taking a seat beside her. He’s exhausted and weary, but he’s home and he’d rather focus his attention on making his True Love happy than thinking about all he’d had to do while in Neverland.

“You deserve to have your own life, Belle,” he says. “I can’t expect you to just sit here and wait around for me forever. I’ve made you do that long enough. If you had left, I certainly wouldn’t have held it against you.”

She sighs and reaches for his hand. “I know,” she tells him. “But what good is having my own life when everything I want is right here?”

He looks at her, all longing and adoration and cups her cheek in his hand. “Oh, Belle,” he whispers softly. Stroking her cheek with his thumb he asks her, “Where would you have gone?”

“New York,” she answers softly. “I did some research. Their library looks incredible. Not to mention the museums and the parks.”

“When were you planning to leave?” He asks and she nods to the abandoned case.

“After I was finished packing.”   
  
He nods, as if he’s made a decision and stands, pulling her up with him. “Finish packing,” he instructs her.

She blinks, confused. “What?”

“Finish packing,” he repeats and he turns to leave the room.

Belle calls out, “Wait! Where are you going?”

He turns to her, giving her that impish grin she knows all too well. “I’m getting my suitcase,” he says simply. “We’re going on a trip.”

She launches forward, wrapping him in her arms and kisses him furiously, then turns back and begins grabbing more clothes to stuff in the suitcase.

They’re fully packed within twenty minutes, and after a brief call to his son to let him know what’s going on, Rumplestiltskin whisks his love away to the magical land of New York City.


	29. Waking in a New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She falls asleep as Lady Belle, future wife of Sir Gaston. She wakes up as Lacey Gold. Prompted by repeatinglitanies.

Her eyes fluttered open and confusion set in.

She’d been due to marry Sir Gaston the night before. She remembered reading by the fireplace, dressed in her elaborate gown, and she remembered falling asleep. But she was no longer in her bedchamber, and the man beside her certainly was not Gaston.

And then the man next to her opened his eyes. She stared at him in confusion and then gasped as suddenly everything came back, flooding her mind with memories. She’d been reading a book about magical creatures, specifically a creature known as the Dark One. She’d grown up hearing tales of his deals, and they had always excited her. As she’d read, growing weary from dread and a lack of sleep, her last thought had been a wish - that the Dark One could prevent her from having to marry her betrothed.

Apparently, he’d seen fit to do just that. And as she knew all his deals came with a price, it seemed he’d decided her payment was to be  _ _his__ wife instead.

They looked at each other for several long moments, Belle blinking in confusion. She sat up, trying to piece her fragmented thoughts together, then blanched as she realized she was wearing strange nightclothes that left her legs entirely bare.  _ _Shorts__ , her mind whispered, and she wondered how she knew what they were called.   
  
Married or not, she had no desire for this man to see her in such a state, and she pulled the sheets around her, trying to make herself as decent as possible. She heard a faint chuckle to her left and looked sharply down to the man beside her.

“ _ _What__  is so funny?” She snapped, her confusion making her hateful. “And where are we?”  
  
The man, who she knew to be the Dark One yet looked nothing like the stories claimed, sat up as well and gave her an amused look.

“For one,” he began, “Your reaction to your surroundings. Two, I succeeded.”

Belle blinked. “What do you mean you succeeded?”

“We’re no longer in the Enchanted Forest,” he said gleefully and Belle gave him a dry stare.

“Then I’ll ask again. Where are we?“

"Use your brain,” he said. “Think.”  

Belle did, and suddenly more memories came pouring in. Images of her walking into an antique shop – another thing that was strange yet familiar – to talk to a man in a three piece suit. There were images of the two of them – her and the man beside her – talking softly over the counter, hands brushing hesitantly. There were images of the man taking her on dates and bringing her flowers while she worked at the library – and  _ _that__  was something she could definitely get used to, working in a room full of books. There were memories of an elegant wedding, in which she walked down the aisle on the arm of a man that was and was not her father.

There was a flash of a memory in which she writhed and screamed in pain as she gave birth to a child, the man beside her holding her hand tightly and coaxing her on-

  
  
She tore herself away from the thought and stared at the Dark One, mouth agape. "We have a  _ _child__!” She screeched and the man shook his head.

“No,” he said, far too calm for the situation they were in. “Only the memory of having one. It’s not real. None of it is. The child you remember is  _ _my__ son. I created this curse to bring us here so that I could find him. And I did.”

Belle sighed heavily. “So, wait,” she said, and she couldn’t help but feel strange and not fully like herself. “You brought everyone here so you could find your son, but we all have memories of us doing all sorts of things that we’ve never really done?”

The man sighed in return and explained, “I didn’t cast the curse. I made it, but the Queen Regina cast it to get revenge on Snow White.”

Belle blinked and he sighed again, “Runaway princess? Married to Prince-”

“Yes, I know who she is,” Belle snapped. “Go on.”

“Well, we’re to live in this town for the rest of eternity, so the Queen thinks, no one knowing who they are. Snow White is now Mary Margaret-”

“School teacher,” Belle answered, “She’s our son’s teacher.”  

He nodded. “Exactly. You’re getting the hang of this,” he said as he flashed her a proud grin. “No one, except Regina, you, and myself knows the truth. No one will know you are the Lady Belle. Here, everyone knows you as Lacey. No one knows that I’m Rumplestiltskin. They only know Mr. Gold.”

Belle  _ _– Lacey,__ what kind of name was that? - raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a first name? I can’t imagine I’ve spent the past - however far back these memories go - calling you ‘Mr. Gold’.”

He nodded. “It’s Robert,” he said and Belle giggled.

“A bit plain when you compare it to Rumplestiltskin,” she teased.

He shrugged. “Yes, well…” He trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“Wait a moment,” Belle said, her mind beginning to kick in and process all this new information. “You said your son was here. Doesn’t he know?”

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “No. I located him, and when the curse was cast, I made sure that he would be here with us, but that he wouldn’t know the truth until everyone else wake’s up.”

“Wake up?”

“Snow White’s daughter will arrive in twenty-eight years and break the curse. And then we’ll all remember and return home.”

“Will we age?”

He shook his head. “Time is frozen. We will not change. And no one will notice.”

“Except us.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Correct.”

She hummed, allowing herself to sink into her thoughts, and Rumplestiltskin let her, choosing to get out of bed, wincing as his leg began to throb, and grabbed the conveniently placed cane to help him move to his closet. As he pulled out his clothes for the day, he failed to notice Belle had left the bed as well. He turned, jumping in surprise to see her standing in front of him.

“I wished that I didn’t have to marry Gaston,” she said. “And I thought about you as I made that wish. Is that why I’m married to you here and not him? And why did you even make me your wife? You don’t even know me.”

He smirked. “So many questions.” When she did nothing buy cock an eyebrow in impatience, he sighed and shrugged. "My son needed a mother. I wanted a companion. I’ve been alone for a long time and you seemed a rather interesting woman. Besides, you only have to put up with it for twenty-eight years. When the curse breaks, you may do what you wish.”

“So, I’m Lacey the librarian. I went to your shop one day to find some old books and we started talking and a year later we got married in the wedding that shocked the town?” He nodded, affirming her memories to be true.

She hummed, biting her lip as she let everything sink in. She glanced at her husband, a man she both knew intimately yet not at all and offered him a hesitant smile.

“I know what Robert thinks of me,” she began, “But what of Rumplestiltskin? Is he fond of a girl who spends all her free time engrossed in books?”

Rumplestiltskin lifted a hand to play with one of the loose curls that hung past her shoulder. “Rumplestiltskin was never fond of simpering, foolish girls. The more you read, the more knowledge you gain. And knowledge is just another form of power.”

Belle smiled and raised up to press a kiss to her husband’s cheek.

“Then I think we’re going to get along just fine…Robert.”


	30. Inferior Beings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cora has no time for inferior beings. One-sided Cora/Rumple, Rumbelle.

It had been a long time, but once again Cora found herself in the Enchanted Forest. She walked along the dirt road to her destination, a scowl upon her face. She was not fond of the fact that she had to come to  _ _him__  for help, but even she had to admit there were things even she could not do.

She was going to rectify that little problem.

The sight of the Dark Castle - home to the infamous Dark One - came into view and Cora couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped her.  _ _This__ was where he lived? To be sure, it was a fine castle, large and foreboding, but she was a queen of her own realm now, and her lavish palace and gardens made this castle look like a peasants shack.

She made her way to the entrance and with a sweep of her hand pushed the large wooden doors open. She was intrigued by the fact that he had no traps set; no magic to keep out unwanted intruders. She wondered if perhaps he’d gone soft.

She entered his home, coming to a stop in the large foyer. It was a spacious room, with few decorations, save for the large table in the middle which housed an ornate vase filled to the brim with roses. Cora raised an eyebrow at the sight. Since when did the Dark One like flowers?

She continued to roam, figuring she would come upon the master of the castle soon enough. She had not seen him in ages - not since the birth of  _ _her__  daughter - and she couldn’t help but wonder what she would see when she found him. Would he look the same, she wondered idly. It was true she had aged, she was still a cursed mortal, and she felt a small pang of jealousy run through her at the thought of him not aging a day.

Oh, to be immortal.

She continued walking, making her way through a long hallway, pausing at another large set of doors when she heard the distinct sound of laughter.

A  _ _woman’s__  laughter.

She cringed, the sound itself an unpleasant thing, but Cora could not help the curiosity that came over her. Why would there be a woman here and why would she be laughing?

She opened the door carefully so as not to alert those on the other side of her presence and stepped inside. It was yet another large room, long and narrower than the foyer, filled with numerous trinkets and treasures. Cora gave a quick cursory glance around the room, taking in the large (covered) mirror, the numerous columns that held what she could only assume were priceless objects, a large cabinet with glass doors that held even more things - had the Dark One become a hoarder of treasures? She glanced down the center of the room, past the large wooden table that held yet another vase - this time with a single red rose - only to see her former master and lover sitting in a large armchair, holding a young woman in his arms.

That explained the flowers, then. No doubt collected from a garden to liven up the place. The single rose in this room she could only assume was a gift to the girl, and Cora resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Such a pathetic little flower, really. Rumplestiltskin had never given her flowers. He’d given her access to power, and that was far more valuable than some wilting bloom.

She’d never been fond of flowers anyway.

 

She turned her attention back to the girl, who was dressed in a simple blue gown. The girl looked at Rumplestiltskin, and it occurred to Cora somewhere in the recesses of her mind that it was a look of  _ _love.__

 

And when she saw the imp return the gaze, she knew she’d been right. He had gone soft.

The girl was fiddling with something in her hands and upon closer inspection Cora realized it was a scrap of silk. Curious, she took a cautious and silent step closer, using her magic to make her unnoticeable for the moment. She paused when Rumplestiltskin grasped the girl’s hand and snatched the fabric from her. The girl laughed sweetly and Cora felt herself grow ill. To see such horrendous behavior, never mind that they thought they were alone, was sickening.

He whispered something to her, causing the girl to grin and giggle. Cora could not hear what he said, but she did catch the breathy whisper of her former master whispering, “Belle.”

Cora instantly despised the name. It was too musical, to simple yet elegant. Not at all like the sound of something breaking. The way Rumplestiltskin spoke it was a reminder of nights spent by a spinning wheel, learning to channel anger into gold. She’d not longed for that touch, those hesitant brushes of fingers against her as he encouraged her to  _ _keep going__ , and she wondered vaguely if this girl had ever let gold slip through her undeserving fingers.

She brushed those thoughts aside quickly. She had been young then and now was not the time to dwell on youthful indiscretions.

 

Her attention was again drawn back to the couple - the Dark One and  _ _Belle__.  Rumplestiltskin lifted the silk he’d stolen to the girl’s mouth, letting the soft fabric rest there. Then he leaned up, and she down, and their mouths met on either side of the silk, kissing gently through the barrier.   
  
Cora watched, baffled and disgusted, at the display before her. It was repulsive, the way they each held onto a corner of the material, their other hands busy touching, caressing, and exploring. What on earth could be pleasant about kissing silk?

And then it dawned on her. She’d spent months and months under Rumplestiltskin’s tutelage, and dedicated many subsequent years to studying the magic he had yet to teach her. In all the tomes she’d read, no matter how they differed or debated the correct method to remove a heart, or stir a certain potion, they’d all agreed on one thing: any curse could be broken with True Love’s Kiss.

And Cora was not a fool. She’d long known that the Dark One was cursed. Any who wielded the mythical dagger could control the beast; any who killed the creature with the dagger would gain the powers. But, it seemed that even the curse of the Dark One was susceptible to breaking.   
  
And by a tiny, insignificant girl, no less.

She continued to watch, growing more and more disgusted at the shameless display in front of her. It was one thing, in Cora’s mind, to engage in something as foolish and weakening as love, but to deliberately keep one’s possible undoing this close - to willingly kiss her when one small slip of fabric could render him as weak as the rest of the pathetic world - it was unthinkable.

“I thought you’d have learned your lesson by now, Rumple,” she sneered as she removed her cloaking spell and it was almost enjoyable to watch the Dark One and  _ _Belle__  jump away from each other, the silk fabric fluttering unnoticed to the ground.

All kindness and love drained from his eyes, and Cora took pleasure as she watched the hatred rise up within him. “Cora,” he hissed. After a moment, in which he had clearly been taken by surprise, he recovered and offered her that scathing grin she remembered all too well. “To what do I owe the displeasure, Dearie?”

Cora tsked and began to move toward them, not missing the way Rumplestiltskin took the smallest step closer to the girl, his hand reaching out instinctively to protect her. Cora scoffed.

“Now, now, Rumple,” she said, her voice dripping with venomous honey. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”

“You’re hardly a guest,” he retorted, giving her a hard look. Such anger and malice made her feel right at home. It was a sensation she knew how to handle, how to control.

“And  _ _she’s__  hardly a woman,” Cora shot back, her eyes drifting over to Belle.

“And just who do you think  _ _you__  are,” the girl said, stepping forward so that she was no longer shielded by Rumplestiltskin. “To barge in here and start throwing insults?”

Cora cocked an eyebrow and glanced back to Rumplestiltskin, “Cheeky little thing, isn’t she?”

Rumplestiltskin scowled. “What do you want, Cora?”

“As loathe as I am to admit it,” she began, taking a few leisurely steps toward him, “I need your help.”

“As I recall, the last time I  _ _helped__ you, I got the poor end of the deal.”

Cora shrugged. “All a matter of perspective, I suppose.” She glanced over to Belle, who was watching them with piqued interest, then back to Rumplestiltskin again. “Why don’t we take this somewhere….private?”

Instead of responding to her suggestion, Rumplestiltskin turned, not all the way for he was not foolish enough to turn his back on an enemy and clasped Belle’s hand in his. “Belle,” he said, addressing her as well as Cora, “This is Cora. She is an ex-apprentice of mine. As well as my former lover.”

Her face did not change, but Cora swore she heard the girl’s sharp intake of breath.

“We had a falling out many years ago over….matters of the heart. You have no reason to fear her.”

The girl gave him a dry look. “Since when have you known me to be afraid of anything?”

He chuckled, the sound soft and endearing and Cora’s face scrunched in revulsion. “Quite right, my love.” He turned to face Cora again, giving her a smug smile. She no longer had that angle to work with, and she cursed him for it. “Whatever you wish to say, you can say it here, in front of Belle.”

“What do you even see in her?” The question had come out before she had a chance to check herself and she cursed herself for her inability to keep her mouth shut.

Rumplestiltskin cocked a brow. “Now, that’s not  _ _really__  why you’re here, is it? I’d rather thought you’d long….purged yourself of any interest in things like this.”

He was mocking her, she knew. She’d sacrificed everything they’d had - could have had - for power. And though she did not regret the decision - how could she? She was queen and powerful and feared and people broke their necks and cracked their knees from bowing to her - but she looked upon her former master and the girl - the spiteful little thing who apparently had no qualms about sassing powerful sorcerers - and she couldn’t help but feel that she’d still missed out on something.

She’d ripped out her heart because her love for the man before her had been preventing her from doing what she’d felt necessary. It seemed he’d removed his heart as well, but instead of a box he’d placed it in the small, delicate hands of the girl beside him.

Beside him. Not behind as if she were an inferior being and not in front as if she were superior, but next to him. Equal.

It was obvious to her now that while her heart still beat for him - in a box locked away so that she would never have to be subjected to those foolish and pathetic emotions again - he’d opened himself up, and found someone who could share in his weakness. For that’s what it was, and Cora would never change her mind on the matter. And in her eyes, he was weak now.

She offered him a tight smile, forced and unnatural, and glanced down at her gloves. “I’m merely curious,” she answered at last.

“Well, I’ve no time for idle curiosities today, Dearie,” Rumplestiltskin declared with a giggle that was exactly as she remembered it. “So unless there’s something else you wanted…”

“No, no.” She said with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure I can manage on my own.” She’d always done just fine on her own; now would not be the time for that to change.

“I’ll see you out,” he said as he released his girl’s hand. Turning to her he whispered suggestively, “Would you be so kind as to make some tea for us? And take it to our room?”

Cora shuddered and the girl flushed and nodded, turning to leave the room. Rumplestiltskin gestured for her to follow him and he led her to the door. With a wave of his hand, the doors opened and the air from the outside drifted in, bringing about a chill that was still warmer than the tension between student and teacher.

“Good day, Cora,” was all he said to her as he waited impatiently, seemingly eager for her to leave. She took a step but paused in the threshold and turned back to him.

“What do you see in her?” She asked again, and she winced at just how desperate she sounded.

Rumplestiltskin stared at her a long time, studying her aged features closely before answering, “She makes me want to be a better person,” he said. “She has seen all of me, and she does not cower or run. She challenges me and encourages me. She’s not afraid to love-” and there was the sting - “And she gives me the courage to love again, as I never thought I would.”

“And you truly love her?” She resented herself for asking, but she had to know.

Rumplestiltskin leaned against the doorway, somehow looking both smug and genuine. “Let’s just say,” he began, “That kissing you was never a threat to what I am.”

“And you’re fine with that? Having such a threat so close to you?”

“Oh, Cora,” Rumplestiltskin breathed, and the sound could have been a caress had it not been dripping with hate, “Ilive for the  _ _thrill__ of it.”

 

And then he moved, and the door shut, leaving Cora out in the cold. She was grateful that she no longer had her heart, for she was sure it would break in that moment, and such pain was not worth feeling- not when she had more important things to worry about.  

She brushed her hair out of her face, holding her chin high in defiance and turned to smoothly stride away from the castle. As she walked, she decided that it had been foolish to come for his help. She didn’t  _ _need__  his help anyway. She would figure out the solution to her problem on her own. At any rate, it was obvious that between the two, he was the weaker, and Cora had no time nor patience to deal with inferior beings. 


	31. Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple helps Belle learn to drive.

  
Gold glanced over at Belle before returning his gaze to the road. She had never expressed an interest in driving before and he wondered what had caused the sudden desire.  
  
Almost as if she could read his thoughts, she explained, “I think it would be good if I learned. I could drive myself if I need to run an errand and if something ever happened to you, I’d like to know I have a way to get to you quickly.”  
  
He couldn’t argue with that logic, but he was reluctant to teach her. Not because he didn’t want her to have the freedom to go where she wished, but because he enjoyed having her with him. She was the light of his world, and he hated every moment she was away from him. If she could drive she wouldn’t need him. He liked knowing he could do something for her, but his Belle was independent. Of course she would want to know how to drive.   
  
And of course he would teach her. He would give her whatever she asked of him.  
  
He pulled over and shut off the engine. Belle gave him a curious look and he unbuckled his seat belt, telling her he wanted her to take his place in the driver’s seat.  
  
“Wh-now?” Belle gasped and Gold shrugged.  
  
“No time like the present,” he stated and opened the door. Belle got out and walked over to his side and he shut the door behind her. He got in the passenger’s side and looked at her. She was looking at the dash with hesitation and Gold asked her if she was all right.  
  
“I didn’t bring my notes,” she said softly and he gave her a quizzical look. She explained, “I found a book at the library that’s all about driving. It explains everything; how to drive, the rules of the road. All of it.”  
  
He chuckled at that. It came as no surprise that Belle would have read about the subject before approaching it. He was even less surprised that she had taken notes. She’d been taking notes about everything lately, filling up a notebook he’d given her with notes and reminders of various appliances and objects, their functions, and how to use them.

She was intelligent as well as adorable and he gave her a smile.  
  
"Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be able to read your notes while you drove,” he said softly. “Reading and driving is frowned upon.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I  _ _know__  that,” she said her tone exasperated, but her smile indicated she was teasing him. “I just want to be sure I know what I’m doing.”  
  
“You have me, love,” Gold said gently, “I’ll help you learn.”  
  
She nodded and reached down to turn the car on. The engine roared to life and she gave a little triumphant smile that she at least knew how to turn the car on.  
  
“Very good,” he said. “Now do you know which pedal is the break?”  
  
She pressed her heeled foot against the pedal, the car not moving and he could tell in the rear view mirror that the red break lights were glowing.  
  
“Good,” he said, impressed at how much she already knew. This wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as he thought. He should know better than to underestimate his Belle.  
  
“Now you put the car into-”  
  
“Drive,” she finished and pointed with a polished nail to the D on the gear shift and Gold nodded.  
  
“Very good,” he said.  
  
She moved the handle to the correct position and he told her to gently take her foot off the break and to even more gently press her foot against the gas pedal. She did as she was told and he instructed her on turning the wheel to guide the car back onto the road.  
  
She drove slowly, gripping the steering wheel tightly, and Gold reached over to place his hand on her thigh encouragingly. Her lips twitched in a smile but she said nothing and kept her eyes glued to the road.  
  
He instructed her the entire way home, patiently offering tips when she tapped the break a little too hard – which she did often - and praised her when she did something right. She was clearly focused, only answering with little hums to his commentary.  
  
They reached Gold’s house after some time, Belle smirking as she flipped the switch to turn in the blinker before Gold could instruct her to do so. She pulled into the driveway and put the car into park, turning to him with a large smile.  
  
“How was that?” She asked.  
  
He nodded appreciatively. “That was quite impressive,” he said.  
  
“I knew reading that book would help.”  
  
“I have no doubt of it,” Gold agreed. Belle unbuckled her seatbelt but paused when Gold reached out his hand to stop her. “I meant to bring some paperwork home with me,” he said. “I just realized I left it at the shop. Perhaps we could go now and get it?” He was smirking mischievously at her and she grinned brightly in return, knowing all too well that he’d had no intentions of bringing home any paperwork.

“Yes,” she agreed happily. “We should definitely go get it. Shall I drive?”  
  
He nodded and she snapped the seatbelt back into place. He instructed her how to back up, chuckling as she tapped the break a little too hard. Once they were back on the road, she shifted the gear into drive and began driving slowly toward the shop.   
  
This time she was more willing to talk, asking questions and listening as he offered advice. She smiled as she stopped at a stop sign and reached over to touch his leg. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said with a genuine smile. “I enjoy having you here to teach me about this world.”

He realized then that teaching Belle to drive would not cause her to abandon him. He’d always admired her for her independent spirit and he loved seeing her thrive in this world. Teaching her to drive wouldn’t mean that she would stop spending time with him. It meant that she could take the wheel more often, leaving him free to sit idly and admire her beauty.

It meant she could come and go as she pleased. It meant that wouldn’t let him drive anymore because she didn’t know how. It meant that she would be in the car with him because she  _ _wanted__ to be, not because she  _ _had__ to be. It was liberating, giving her wings to fly, and he wanted to watch her soar.

She moved forward again, hitting the gas a little too hard and immediately pressing the brakes, causing him to lurch forward.

He would watch her soar after he taught her how to break properly.


	32. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple never saw it coming. Prompted by piccolascintilla.

He’d been just about to close - on time, for once - when the little bell chimed, signaling the entrance of someone he’d rather not deal with.

With a sigh, Gold limped out of the back room toward the front, readying a scathing remark to whoever dared come in so late.

He had a date with Belle tonight, damn it, and he wasn’t going to be late because someone wanted to look at objects he could not afford.

The hateful words on the tip of his tongue, Gold stepped out from behind the curtain only to stop, biting his tongue in the process, to see Neal standing there, idly picking at a mobile hung from the ceiling.

“Hello, son,” he managed to get out, his voice a slight quiver. Relations between himself and his only child were still strained at best, but it had been made clear by both parties that they were willing to strive for something akin to all right.

“Hey,” Neal replied, turning to fiddle with something on the counter. Gold watched, amused as his son cautiously picked at the various items that were mementos of lives left behind. Neal browsed the shop casually, and Gold was content to watch until he heard the distant chiming of an antique clock in the back, signaling that it was six o’clock.

“Son,” Gold said, reluctant to ask his boy to leave but even more reluctant to keep Belle waiting for him at the library. He did not like the thought of having to choose between the two of them, but it was Thursday, and he always met Belle at the library on Thursday’s.

“Henry says everything in here once belonged to someone else,” Neal stated, ignoring his father. “If that’s true then how come you still have so much stuff? I would think people would want their stuff back.”

Gold smiled, amused as his son’s curiosity. He glanced at a second clock on the wall. He could spare a couple minutes, he decided. Belle would understand.

“One would think,” Gold agreed as he limped his way to his son’s side. “I suppose everyone is too busy reuniting with loved ones to worry about a few lost trinkets.”

“I suppose,” Neal agreed. He then turned to his father, a mischievous grin on his face. “Do you have anything of ours?”

Images of the shawl he’d enchanted ran through his mind. Thinking back on it, he was surprised Neal hadn’t noticed it sooner, but what with all the excitement of being reunited with his lost love, meeting his son, and rushing his injured father back to Storybrooke, he supposed Neal hadn’t had time to notice much of anything.

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head toward the wall. “Behind that picture is a safe,” he said. “Be a good lad and open if for me.”

Neal moved behind the counter and Gold recited the combination for him. Opening it up, Neal pulled out the shawl, his features softening as he held the cloth with reverence.

“Wow…” he whispered, more to himself than to his father. He remembered this shawl and holding it again brought back a flood of memories. He jumped when he felt Gold’s hand on his shoulder and he lifted a hand to quickly wipe away the tears that had started to form in his eyes.

Chuckling, Neal clutched the shawl a bit more casually and grinned. “Been a long time since I’ve seen this old thing,” he said, trying his best to hide how much seeing it again had affected him. Gold knew better than to call him out on it, knowing that sometimes it was best to let some things remain unsaid.

“Indeed,” he said. “I’ve had it a while. If you’d like it, you may take it.”

Neal raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Gold nodded. “I have my boy,” he said, knowing all too well the man before him was no longer a boy. But no matter how many worlds they traveled through to get to each other, Gold would always think of his son as the precious fourteen year old with wide eyes and messy hair and a desire to just  _ _be__  with his father. “I don’t need the shawl anymore.”

“Yeah,” Neal said, unfolding and refolding the shawl into a neat square.  

Their eyes met and a lifetime of pain, sorrow, anger, and loss passed between them. Neal knew his father was a different man, and he could see in the bottomless depths of his father’s dark eyes that all Rumplestiltskin longed for now was a second chance.

And Neal was willing to give it.

“Well,” he said, moving away from his father, attempting to act casual and unaffected. “I don’t know about you but I’m starved. Why don’t we go grab a bite at Granny’s or something?”

Gold hesitated. “I’m… actually supposed to meet Belle at the library,” he said, his voice hesitant and apologetic.

Neal waved his hand. “Call her and tell her you’ll meet her there. Come on. She’s cool. She’ll understand.”

Sighing softly, Gold relented, and took out his cell phone and dialed Belle’s number. She answered, sounding distracted. “Yes?”

“Hello love,” Gold said tenderly. “Neal came by the shop and wants to have dinner with us. Would you mind meeting us there instead of our usual routine?”

“Sure,” she said, her voice dull. “Computer’s acting up so I’ll be along shortly.”

“See you then, dearest.” She had struggled with the computer for as long as she’d been librarian, and Rumplestiltskin pitied her greatly as he hung up. He’d caught her several times almost in tears over her frustration at the thing, and he hoped that whatever it was doing this time wouldn’t put her in an unhappy mood.

“Lead on,” he said to Neal who had unfolded the shawl and wrapped it around his shoulders.

They walked together, talking idly about Henry and Emma when they reached the diner. Neal moved ahead to grab the door for his father and opened it. “After you.”

Gold raised an eyebrow in slight amusement, then walked inside.

__“SURPRISE!”_ _

Gold jumped, taking a retreating step back, only to collide with Neal’s front.

“What-“ He asked, staring at over half the town, decked out in party hats, blowing annoying little whistles and looking generally pleasant – towards him.

His eyes flickered over the crowd, widening slightly as Belle stepped out from the middle, looking marvelous in a golden knee-length party dress. He focused on her, taking in her appearance gratefully while also trying to process what was happening. She reached him and planted her hands on his shoulders and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Happy birthday, Rumple,” she said pleasantly, giving Neal a quick wink as she stepped back. Gold raised an eyebrow and turned around to face his son.

“You planned this.” It was an accusation more than anything and Neal grinned smugly.

He pointed to Belle. “Your girlfriend planned it,” he said reaching around to give Belle a high five, which she happily returned. “I was merely the distraction.”

He glanced back at Belle. “Using my own son against me, are you?”

Belle giggled and took his hand. “I know how you are about people coming in at closing time. Neal was the only one who would be able to get away with it.”

Gold chuckled. “Quite right at that.”

He glanced at the other people who were standing around, talking cheerfully amongst themselves. Gold doubted many of them were here for  _ _him__ , but they were here, no doubt because of Belle, Neal, or-

“Happy birthday, Grandpa.”

Gold looked down to see his grandson standing before him, looking every bit like his own son. Henry held out a package for him, crudely wrapped in bright printed paper.

Gold took the parcel from the boy with a smile. “Thank you, Henry.”

Henry stared at Gold for a moment, before he cocked his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side in a way that always signaled he had a question. “How old are you, anyway?”

Behind him Neal laughed, and it caused a few people to glance over at them. Gold chuckled as he leaned over to Henry, “Older than you would think. But Mr. Gold is 50.”  

“Well, considering you’re actually probably like, a thousand, you still look pretty good.”

Gold stood up, cocking an eyebrow in a way that proved the boy in front of him was his grandson. “Miss Swan.”

Emma reached out to awkwardly pat him on the arm. “Happy birthday,” she said. “Um, Granny made hamburgers for everyone. Since you’re the birthday boy….man…whatever – we thought you’d like to start.”

Gold nodded and grabbed Belle’s hand as he took his seat at the booth that was covered in confetti and glitter – no doubt reserved for him. Ruby breezed by, setting down a plate in front of him with a large, juicy hamburger on it. “Granny says the extra pickles are your birthday present,” she said with a smile. “But she also says that if she hears one complaint from you she’s going to forbid letting you have any cake.”

Across from him, Belle hid her head behind her hands, laughing hard, and Gold could only smirk at Ruby. “I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior,” he promised, even going so far as to make an X over his heart.

More food was handed out, everyone talking pleasantly and the majority of people coming up at various points to wish him a happy birthday. Belle stayed by his side the entire time, beaming brightly at how happy everyone – especially Rumple – seemed, and later that night, after he’d been showered with gifts and more glitter and confetti – he’d never get it out of his suit, he sighed – he sat alone with Belle in his den, the two of them snuggled close together.

“So what brought that about?” He asked, taking a sip of the tea she’d made for them.

“Henry mentioned what he wanted for his birthday a few weeks ago and it dawned on me that I never actually knew your birthday. So I asked Baelfire. I’ve been planning ever since.”

“You’re a clever girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I was taken completely by surprise.”

“Good,” she said as she snuggled closer to him. “I wanted it to be your best birthday ever.”

He sat his cup on the table, then reached back to take hers. Leaning close to her, he whispered, “I had my family with me,” he whispered. “And I have you here. That alone makes it the greatest birthday I have ever had.”

She smiled and tugged on his tie. “And the best part is you still have one gift to unwrap.”

His eyebrow rose. “Oh? And what might that be?”

She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Me.”


	33. In Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’ll love her, in sickness and in health, but most especially sickness.

The guilt ate at her heart, and the pain was worse than she’d ever known. And Belle knew pain.  
  
She’d been ill her entire life and it had been after the seventh or eighth trip to the hospital (that she could remember) that she realized she was more of a burden to her father than a blessing.  
  
Her father had never indicated such a thing, but Belle, for all her medical problems and time spent medicated to ease the pain, was an extremely intelligent girl, and she didn’t have to look too hard to see that her father was growing weak and weary, and there would come a time when he would be unable to work to pay for the pile of bills that sat on the dining room table.  
  
And it seemed, as she sat in the hospital for the thousandth time - it for once not the one stuck in the bed - that that time had come.  
  
She’d been ill, but this morning she’d felt well enough to come downstairs - just in time to see he father clutch at his chest and fall to the floor.  
  
She’d reacted quickly, calling an ambulance and sitting with her father until the men arrived and picked him up as if he weighed nothing - and her father was not a light man - and place him on the stretcher.  
  
She’d been allowed to ride in the ambulance, and for the first time, she was able to remember the ride.  
  
That had been a week ago, and she still sat here, waiting for her father. Her father was suffering from a serious heart condition, and upon further inspection, it had been discovered that his arteries were over 90% blocked and would require an extensive surgery.  
  
Belle knew it was illogical to think so, but a part of her couldn’t help but feel that she’d brought this upon her father.  
  
He awoke only occasionally, and only to tell her to go home and rest. She refused, declaring that if she were to have another attack, this would be the best place to have it.  
  
She sat there, listening to the all too familiar sound of machines beeping rhythmically. She held a book in her hand, a thick historical volume about the Ancient Greeks and their worship practices, when a knock rang out on the door.  
  
Belle looked up in confusion and then smiled brightly as Mr. Gold poked his head in.  
  
“May I come in?” He asked softly and Belle nodded, marking her place in her book and setting it aside.  
  
Mr. Gold offered her a hesitant smile and entered. Belle adored Mr. Gold. He was their landlord, and was known to be a vile and vicious man who cared for nothing but collecting rent and evicting families for fun. But Belle had never seen such a side of the man. He always demanded the rent be paid and Maurice had always been a diligent tenant. It was only after having to rush Belle to the hospital four times in as many months that he began to fall behind. Gold had planned to talk to the man about it, but Maurice had come to him first – telling him he needed help. He said he knew Gold did not tolerate lateness, but with his daughter in the condition she was in, he hadn’t been able to work as much and wanted to try to work something out.

Gold, normally unsympathetic to such pitiful tales, had been moved by the man’s plight, and had agreed to work with him, on the condition that he breath a word of their agreement to no one. Maurice had been more than willing to comply.

Gold thought for some time and finally came to Maurice with his proposition. He offered to have Belle stay with him at his shop while Maurice worked, to which Belle had instantly declared she had no need of a babysitter - though she knew that was not entirely true. But Gold had merely smirked and informed her that he would not be sitting around idly. She would work. She would do the bookkeeping for him.  
  
“You sit and count numbers,” he’d stated as if she didn’t know what the word meant, “Shouldn’t be too taxing for such a smart girl.” Without even waiting for her father’s opinion, she offered Gold her hand, promising him he would see her the next day.   
  
For every day she worked, some of the rent was knocked off. It was a relief to know she was helping her father, and beyond that, Belle enjoyed it. She felt useful for the first time, and it was a job that allowed her to sit and not exert herself. She taught Gold to watch for symptoms of an attack, but so far she had been lucky enough to not have to rely on him to help her.  
  
But as rewarding as the work was, the company ended up being the greatest reward. Gold was cold to others, but he never spoke hatefully to her. Even when she made mistakes, or misplaced an item, he never raised his voice or called her names. Even when she’d grown particularly weak one day and dropped a fragile tea cup, chipping the rim, he’d merely shook his head at her, and claimed he’d have to tie her to the chair to ensure his inventory remained safe from her. It hadn’t been a reprimand, for he offered her a genuine smile, and it had been that smile that had made her realize she was utterly smitten.  
  
“Please come in,” Belle replied, nodding to the other seat in the room. “Papa is asleep, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with just me.”  
  
“A fate I’ve long since grown accustomed to,” he answered, and to anyone else it would have seemed an insult. To Belle, it was practically an endearment. She’d spent three days a week with him for the past year and a half and was quite adept at reading the underlying meaning of his words.   
  
“He’s going to have to have surgery,” she informed Gold as he sat down next to her. He sat his cane to the side, and she instinctively reached out to grab the handle. It had become a habit, to play and twist the cane in her hands. Gold watched her, eyes glued to her long, thin fingers as she twirled the cane between her hands.  
  
“And I know the rent is due,” she said, deciding to bring up the subject before he could. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me a ride, I can go get what we had saved up for you. Maybe I can shower and get some more clothing as well.”  
  
“You haven’t been home since he had the attack?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. She shook her head.  
  
“He never leaves me,” she reasoned. “I can’t leave him.”  
  
“If you don’t take care of yourself, you just might.”  
  
It was a warning, and Belle knew the tone. She’s come to know and understand all sides of Gold. He had parts that everyone saw. He had parts only she had seen. And this was the concerned, worried man who feared the worst for her. He always worried about her, in his own ways, but when they were alone was the only time he ever truly let his defenses down to let her truly see him.  
  
And she loved what she saw.  
  
“I know,” she whispered, glancing down at her hands, which were quivering slightly from her weakness. “I just don’t know what to do. We’re screwed.”  
  
Gold cocked an eyebrow and she explained, “We were barely able to pay the bills and the rent,“ she began, "Now Papa will be out of commission for who knows how long, and the bills and rent will just pile up because life goes on and doesn’t stop for us, so I’m not sure what we will do. Other than drown. Working for you helps considerably, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough now.”  
  
“How much do you owe?” Gold asked. Belle hesitated only briefly before telling him the massive amount of hospital bills they owed.  
  
“And that’s not including the monthly bills: rent, electric, water, and phone.”  
  
“May I make a proposition?” Gold asked after a moment. Again, Belle nodded.  
  
“I want to ask you something. Answer me truthfully.”  
  
“Okay,” she said, wondering what on earth he could be thinking.  
  
“Would you marry me,” he whispered, reaching out suddenly to take her hand. “Would you agree to be my wife? I will absolve the rent. I will pay off the medical bills. I’ll take care of you where your father can’t.”  
  
“You can’t pay for my bills,” she declared softly, ever mindful of her father resting at her side. “I can’t bring that upon you.”  
  
“I can and I will if you accept me,” he said tersely. “I have more than enough money, and I care for you.” She felt him squeeze her hand. “Let me help you the way you’ve helped me.”  
  
She blinked. “How have I helped you?”  
  
“You reminded this old monster that he has a heart. You bring in sunshine when you walk into my shop. You make me laugh, you challenge me, and you accept me. And even in your weakness, you are the strongest person I’ve ever met.”  
  
She didn’t realize she was crying until the tears dripped onto their joined hands. She glanced down, distracted by the wet sensation, then looked back up at the man who was sitting earnestly before her.  
  
“I don’t feel right marrying you so you’ll pay off my bills,” she said. He opened his mouth to protest but she pressed a finger to his lips. “But I do want to marry you.”

He tilted his head, as if he were confused. “You do?”

She felt his grip tighten around her fingers and she squeezed back, though the gesture was slight. She was weak, and needed to have a proper night’s rest, but she fought away the sickness that was slowly beginning to creep up on her.

“Yes,” she said. “You’ve always been kind to me. You’re patient with me. Not many people understand what I have to live with every day – other than my father – but you’ve never once acted as if my condition is a burden to you. You treat me like an adult, not an invalid. And I’m grateful for that. I….love how you make me feel.”

He offered her another small smile, then shifted his eyes over to where her father lay. She turned her head slightly and saw that he was beginning to come to. “Papa,” she whispered, letting go of Gold’s hand to reach for her father’s. “You have a visitor.”

Maurice groaned, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted to the bright light reflecting on white washed walls and glanced down his nose to see Mr. Gold sitting there, looking ever proper and controlled in his three-piece suit.

“Might be a bit late with that rent,” he wheezed, trying to laugh at his own joke. The sound turned into a cough. Belle stood, wearily and unsteadily to hold a cup to his lips and help him drink from it. Maurice sighed in thanks, smiling at his daughter as she placed the cup on the rolling stand next to his bed.

“I’m not here about the rent,” Gold answered softly, his eyes sliding quickly over to Belle and back to Maurice. He stood then, digging his wallet out of his pocket and pulling out a twenty and passed it to Belle. “Why don’t you go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. You can’t very well look after things if you get sick as well.”

Belle instantly knew what he was doing, but instead of arguing, she took the money, asked both men if they wanted anything, to which they declined, and then she exited the room, walking slowly. She was weak and her stomach was aching, as was her head. She needed to eat something and take her medication, something she had not been quite as diligent about the past week.

When she returned, it was to the scene of her father and her – what was he to her? Landlord? Employeer? Benefactor? Fiance? – shaking hands. Her father looked resigned, and Gold looked relieved. She wondered what the man had said to her father.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“Belle,” Maurice said as he beckoned her over with a shaking arm. She approached him, and stood expectantly at his side, waiting for him to speak.

“Mr. Gold told me what he asked you earlier,” he began. Belle nodded, not sure if she was supposed to try to defend her actions or beg her father to understand. The expression on his face was one she had never seen before and she did not know what to do. “I think it’s a smart idea,” Maurice continued, which took Belle by as much surprise as the actual proposal had.

“You and I are cursed with poor health,” he said. “And this heart thing isn’t going to be a short process. My surgery is going to take a lot out of me. I’m going to have to stay here for several weeks while I recover. And I can’t take care of you here. And I need someone to be with you, just in case. Marrying Gold is as smart a move as anything. You can rest and still work at his shop and I can heal without having to worry about how you are. And should something happen to me on the table….”

He did not finish. They both knew the risks of the surgery. His heart and the arteries were in bad shape and he could very likely die on the table.

“And you’re all right with him taking care of the med-“She stopped as she felt Gold’s foot nudge her leg sharply. She coughed and corrected herself. “Of me?”

Maurice nodded tiredly. “Gold’s a friend of our family. He has proven time and time again to be a good man to us. If I cannot be there for you, it’s a comfort to know that he is willing to care for you. To be there for you.”

“There wouldn’t be a wedding,” she said softly. “We can’t afford it and we’re both too ill for something like that.”

Maurice shrugged. “If you want a wedding, you’ll have one.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have anyone to invite,” she said. “But I’ll think about it.”

Maurice nodded in understanding. “Go home,” he said. “Let me know what day you choose.”

She said nothing, but bent over to give her father a kiss. “Thank you.”

He reached up and hugged her, and after a few tearful moments, they let go and Gold led her with a hand on the waste to the exit. When they reached it, her father called out, “Don’t forget to give him the rent.” Belle glanced back, nodding only slightly, and slipped out the door.

They walked down the hallway, Belle leaning on him as heavily as he leant on his cane. “You didn’t tell him about the money,” she said as they got in the elevator.

Gold shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t important.”

She furrowed her brows at him. “It’s very important, I think.”

“He turned to face her, lifting his free hand to grasp one of hers. “I told your father the truth. I want to marry you because I care about you. I want a companion. I want to ensure that you would not be alone should anything happen to him. He need not know that you’re marrying me to take care of a debt. To me, the money is not important; what is important is your happiness; your well-being.”

She blinked back tears, moved by his words. “Would it bother you if I said I would marry you even if you hadn’t offered to pay the bills? That I would have done it because I’m rather fond of you?”

He stepped closer to her, but only just so. “Why would that bother me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said helplessly. She felt foolish, but then he leaned down and pressed his lips ever so slightly to hers, stealing her breath and her heart.

“I wouldn’t have cared why you agreed,” he breathed. “I would have settled for a simple yes. But I’m pleased to know that you look upon me with fondness.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out together, one of his hands gripping his cane, the other her hand. They walked slowly, for she was weak and he was crippled, and together they must have looked like such a sight, but neither could have cared.

He opened the car door for her and she climbed inside. He shut her in and moved around to the driver’s side, sliding in his cane first, then moving in himself. He started the car, but made no move to leave. They sat silently for a moment before Belle glanced over to him. “What if I said that I’m more than fond of you?”

“I would say you must be mad. But I’m pleased to hear it all the same.”

“Are you fond of me?”

The look her pressed upon her was full of passion, longing, and – dare she think it? – love.

“Much more than fond,” he admitted.

She said nothing for a long time, instead reaching out with her left hand to take his right, stroking her fingers over his knuckles. With his other hand, he grasped the steering wheel and backed the car up, leaving the hospital to make their way to her house.

After a few minutes spent deep in thought, Belle glanced over at the man with whom she was in love and said, “They have a chapel at the hospital, yes?”

Gold nodded, his focus clearly on the road ahead of them. Belle continued, “I have a pretty blue dress that I don’t often have occasion to wear. I think I’d like to wear that, and get married in the chapel. That way Papa can be there.”

Gold glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and she could see his lip twitching into a smile.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” he said. “I’ll call the hospital later and work out the details. When would you like to wed?”

“Tomorrow,” she answered. “Before Papa has his surgery.”

Gold nodded. “Anything specific you would like?” He asked, as if it were merely another business matter and not his own wedding.

“I’d like us to do the whole thing,” she said softly. “Say the vows, exchange rings – if we have enough time to get rings – and….I guess that’s all. I just have this strong, silly desire to hear you promise to care for me in sickness and in health.”

They’d arrived at her home and Gold shut off the car, silent. Belle worried for a moment that perhaps she’d said the wrong thing, and her fear intensified when he got out of the car without a word. She looked in the rearview mirror to see him limping along the edge of the car, and before she could react, he opened the door and fell to his knee next to her. She winced, thinking about his poor leg, but he seemed determined to be where he was, and so she said nothing and merely watched him with interest.

“Let me tell you something right now,” he whispered, and his voice sounded gruff and full of passion. “I  _ _will__  care for you, in health and  _ _especially__  in sickness. I will take care of you when you are weak, and drop whatever I’m doing to be by your side the next time an attack leaves you hospital-bound. I will remind you to take your medicine, and you can fuss at me for overworking my leg. I cannot carry you, but I can make sure your father does not have medical bills to weigh on his heart. I cannot run but I will move heaven and earth to see you smile. I may care for no one else,” and here he paused, and she saw fear in his eyes.  “But I  _ _love__  you. And in sickness or in health, I  _ _will__ care for you.”

They were both crying openly, and it was all Belle could do to keep from throwing her arms around him and knocking them to the ground. That would bring no good for either of them, so instead she merely leaned forward and brushed her lips against his – the way he’d done it in the elevator. The way she’d dreamt of doing it during nights when she was so weak she couldn’t keep her eyes open. They way she’d wanted to ever since he’d caught her after she’d stumbled from a weakened state.

It was the lightest touch, soft and gentle and chaste, but it held the promise of a thousand nights at hospital bedsides, of bouquets of flowers, and tightly held hands as she struggled through yet another episode. It spoke of evenings of leg massages, late night cuddles, and early morning intimacies. It was the promise of all the things they would have together, and when he pulled her closer, moving his lips desperately against hers - he kneeling on the ground and she sitting in his car - she knew she was in good hands.


	34. The Beginning - Rumbelle/Castlevania Crossover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumblle/Castlevania: Lords of Shadow crossover. Prompted by Hisroyaldame

_Rumple is Gabriel (Dracula)  
_

_Belle is his ~~dead~~  wife Marie.   
_

_I hope I’ve done this justice. Sorry it took so long!  
_

Belle took a deep breath as she brandished her sword. She’d been trained all her life for this moment, and it was hard to believe that it was here. All she had to do was kill the monster known as Dracula, and she would be able to unlock the secrets of her past.

She’d been orphaned as a child - by the very monster she’d been sent to kill, so she’d been told - and from her very first memory, all she’d known was training and studying vampires and the best ways to rid the world of them. The group of cleric’s who’d raised her had poured into her a love for the Light, and declared that she would be the monster’s undoing.

They all seemed aware that she was more than she thought she was, but no one was willing to open up and tell her about her past. She was told on numerous occasions that the time had not yet come for those things to be revealed to her but that upon completion of her quest, she would find all the answers she sought.

And Belle had many, many questions.

She approached the Castle Dracula - a place she’d read about more times than she could count. She knew everything there was to know about the vast castle and was determined to put her knowledge to good use. She could practically taste the sweetness that was her imminent victory.

She sneaked inside, surprised and perturbed when she got in without any difficulty. She was prepared for most anything, but she was unnerved by the lack of traps and alarms. One would think The Dark One would be more prepared for intruders.

She crept her way through the castle, sword in hand. Her sword had been enchanted by magic to ensure that the monster would be destroyed for good. She had a small target - his heart - but she’d spent the past twenty years of her life mastering the art of swordplay, so she had no doubts that if she could get a clear shot, the monster would be hers.

She took her time as she moved about. She was so close to the end of her quest that she had no real desire to rush things. She took in the large paintings and tapestries and stopped outright at the sight of a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bookshelf that held no less than one thousand books. She felt her breath leave her sharply and she had to resist the urge to rush to the collection to begin browsing. She remained where she stood and wondered if a creature who obviously had a great love for books could be so bad.

“I’d let you borrow one, but considering you do not come here in peace, I’m afraid I can’t offer that kindness.”

Belle turned sharply to the source of the voice and froze.

She’d never seen Dracula - the clerics claimed they had no paintings or images of him - but she  _knew_  that face. She knew it as if he were the manifestation of a dream she’d long since forgotten. It was a face she hadn’t seen in over twenty years but she would have recognized it anywhere.

“Y-you…”

The man, for he was not a monster -  _couldn’t_ be - smiled, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim moonlight shining through the large stain glass windows.

“I must say I’m surprised. I never thought they’d send a young girl to kill me.”

She ignored his words, though his voice rang in her ears like a gong and she stepped forward as if in a trance. She could see, in her mind, images of this man before her. The man in her head was without the heavy burdened shoulders and sorrowful eyes the man before her had, but he was still the same. His voice had whispered words of love to her, once upon a time, and it came as a shock to her to realized that she’d  _loved_  this man.

She still loved this man.

The memories swirled about, and in the part of her mind that was not overtaken by distant memories of a life she hardly knew, she was grateful that he had not moved from his spot. He could easily have killed her by now and she wondered idly what he was waiting on. She clutched at her head, feeling faint, and she glanced up at the man - Dracula - no, that wasn’t right, she thought. He wasn’t Dracula. There was another name that she knew him by and if only she could  _remember_ it….

Then their eyes met and both of them felt as if they’d been struck by lightning.

“Marie?”

“Gabriel?”

Her sword fell and she was in his arms before it hit the ground. His arms wound around her, tentative and unbelieving, and she clutched him to her. “Gabriel,” she whispered as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Oh my, Gabirel. What has happened to you?”

Gabriel, for his part, remained silent and steady as the small woman clung to him violently. His arms tightened around her as he thought back to the fateful day when his wife had left him to join the ranks of heaven.

And now she had returned. And had been burdened with the task of killing him.

“What happened?” He asked her at long last, pushing her back to keep her at arm’s length. She looked different, only some of her features were familiar, but he knew this face and he knew the sweetness that radiated off her like a perfume. This was Marie. This was his wife.

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted at last. “I was coming…..to kill you. And when I saw you, I began to remember all these things that never happened….yet they did. And it somehow makes perfect sense without making any sense at all.”

“Reincarnation.”  
  
She cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“You,” he said, squeezing her shoulders, “Are the reincarnation of her. My Marie.”

Belle’s face scrunched. “My middle name is Marie.”

Dracula laughed heartily. “Of course it is.”

She stepped back from him and the loss of his touch left her chilled. “Did you know I was coming for you?”   
  
He shook his head. “I knew the Brotherhood would doubtlessly prepare someone to find me. I just didn’t know when.” He reached out to touch a lock of hair that had fallen from her braid. “And I never dared to hope that you would find a way back to me….not after I failed you.”

She felt so unsure, so confused about everything that was happening. She’d been told that killing Dracula would lead her to the answers of who she was. But she need only look at him to feel the strange phenomenon of remembrance. It was strange, to remember. It felt like a dream she only vaguely recalled, but the images were eerily familiar to her: Their life together; his being tricked into killing her. His quest to restore her back to life and his ultimate failure. Had she been brought back for a reason? Was her love the key to stopping the monster the Brotherhood sought so desperately to destroy?

There was only one way to find out.

“I think we need to have a long talk,” she said at last, meeting his eyes again and feeling alarm that she recognized them so intimately. She’d peered into the very soul behind those eyes once, long ago. It seemed that she was long overdue for another look.

He nodded and offered his arm. She took it hesitantly and he led her into a large sitting room that could have been quite lovely had it not been wrecked and abandoned to the darkness long ago. The furniture was old, torn, and mismatched, and there were books and papers scattered everywhere. They sat down on the large plush sofa in the middle of the room. Dracula -  _Gabriel,_  her mind corrected numbly - waved his hand and a fire sprung to life in the hearth. He turned so that his knees touched hers and reached out to grasp her hands.

“Perhaps we should start at the beginning?” He questioned.   
  
Belle nodded. “I think that would be best.”


	35. Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is allergic to something. Rumple thinks it’s him. Prompted by Nightowlwoman.

She used to sit at his feet while he spun and read aloud to him. Now she sits on the far end of the room, a blanket wrapped around her body and a book in her hands, ignoring him completely. He tries not to let it bother him, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his heart, he aches. It should not have come as a surprise, when he thinks about it late one night after she has gone to bed. He’s a monster and no one, not even the patient and accepting Belle, can see past his flaws. He’s not worthy of her, he never has been, and so he thinks that perhaps the best solution would be to let her go.

But then she enters the great hall the next day, offering him sweet smiles and gentle touches with his tea and he recants his decision. He could no sooner let her go than he could let go of his magic. He needs her here with him. He asks her to join him for tea, as he does every morning, and she takes a seat to his left, sipping demurely at her tea. After about ten minutes, her smiles turn to frowns, and her brow creases. He wonders if she’s upset by something he’s said, but before he can ask she begins to sneeze, excuses herself, and flees the room.

And suddenly she no longer sits near him. Her touches, still pleasant and lingering, grow less frequent. She makes excuses about being tired, or needing to tend to another chore instead of shirking her duties to spend evenings with him. He doesn’t know what to do; he knew she would only be able to stand so much of his presence before her patience ran out. But he’s trying so very hard to be gentlemanly toward her, to entice her to stay a minute longer. He wants to impress her; to make her smile and laugh. But instead he only drives her away, and though he understands why no one would ever want his affections put upon them, he has to admit that it hurts. For a while, he thought she would be different. She  _had_ been different. But something had changed and he has no idea what it is.

He wants to ask her about it, but he’s never been good about opening up to others. After watching her for a few days he beings to suspect she might have an aversion to magic. It’s a rare thing, but not completely unheard of, for someone to react poorly when surrounded by too much magic. There is no cure for it, except to avoid magic at all costs, but the thought of letting Belle go because of her disgust with him, or her body’s disgust with his own innate magic is enough to make him sick. So he watches quietly as she tries to hide her sneezes, wondering when she will ask to leave. He fears it’s coming though, sooner or later. She’ll tell him she can’t bear to be around him anymore, his very presence a detriment to her health, and he’ll let her go. Of course he will.

These are the thoughts in his head as he spins one evening. So wrapped up in a hypothetical world of misery and loneliness is he, he doesn’t notice he’s out of straw until his hands are grasping at air. He sighs and briefly contemplates waving his hand and summoning a pile of straw on his own. But Belle is sitting on the other end of the room, and he can’t help but desire to have her closer, even if for only a moment. Looking over his shoulder, he calls out, “I’m out of straw, dearie.”

Belle jumps at his voice and looks at him in confusion. “I brought some up this morning,” she says softly.

“Yes, and I’ve used it all. Would you be so kind  and fetch some more?”

He can see in her eyes that she wants to refuse, but instead she throws her large blanket off and trudges down to the store room to fetch him a basket of straw. He waits impatiently, and finally she returns, looking absolutely horrid. Her eyes are red and he can tell that she’s trying not to sneeze. She practically drops the basket at his feet and turns to retreat, but he reaches out and grabs her wrist.

She glances back at him and he pulls her so she’s standing before him. “Don’t go,” he pleads, needing to know what it is that causing her to be so distant. She’s been tactile and accepting and  _loving_ for so long and he doesn’t want to admit that the thought of her heart turning cold toward him is too much to bear. He misses her presence; he craves it. He needs her smile and her laugh. He needs the brush of her fingers against his and he wants it all to escalate into so much more. But more than all that, he needs to know what has happened between them without his knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, jerking her hand away in enough time to cover a loud and unladylike sneeze. “I can’t stay.”

He keeps his grip on her other hand and brushes his thumb over her knuckles. “Is it me?” He asks at length, and she frowns.

“What?”

He sighs and stands. “Some people are naturally averse to magic. If that’s the case, then just tell me and I’ll let you go.”

Her brow furrows. She sneezes. “You silly man,” she says, gratefully accepting the handkerchief he produced for her. “It’s not you. I’m allergic to the straw.”

He stares at her, blankly. “What?”

She gestures to the basket of straw with her head. “The straw,” she says again, patiently. “It makes me sneeze. I can’t really be around it that much.”

 _Oh,_  he thinks to himself absently. But that doesn’t explain her other strange behavior.

“You’ve been ignoring me, though,” he says almost pitifully. “You used to stay near me all the time. Now I have to practically beg you to stay.”

She giggles, and he feels his face grow hot. “You almost constantly have bits of straw on you,” she says softly, reaching out to pull a piece off his sleeve as if to prove her point. “So whenever I sit near you when you’ve been spinning, it makes me sneeze.” She wrinkles her nose, then sneezes into his handkerchief. “See?”

He feels like such a fool, but he can’t help but laugh in relief. “Well, that’s an easily solvable problem,” he declares, using magic to transport them away from the spinning wheel. When the smoke clears, he’s in a different outfit, and Belle can already feel herself feeling better.

“Thank you,” she says with relief.

“Why did you say nothing before?” He chides, “I would not have made you fetch straw if I had known of your condition.”

Belle shrugs. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” she says sheepishly. “But then I started sneezing around you, but I was afraid I would upset you if I told you your favorite hobby made me ill. I’m just the caretaker after all, so I didn’t feel it was my place to make such a fuss.”

His arms are wrapped around her before he can think twice about his actions. She gasps slightly, but leans into his touch. “You are much more than just my caretaker, Belle,” he says softly, squeezing her closer, “You should know that by now. And at any rate, I won’t have you ill on my part.”

“So I don’t have to fetch straw anymore?” She asks with a smile, and moves her hands so they rest on his forearms. He shakes his head, his curls flying wildly about him.

“I’ll even move the spinning wheel,” he offers, “I can’t have my dear girl sneezing and sniffling every time she takes tea with me.”

Belle leans her head against his chest, causing him to tense. When she does nothing else for a while, he allows himself to relax, relishing the feeling of having her close to him once more. It’s not disgust, or an aversion to magic that kept her from him, and he feels like shouting for joy at this revelation. Perhaps sheloves him as he is: scaled, monstrous, and magical. It’s an outrageous thought, but when he holds her in his arms and feels her warmth and softness, he can’t help but entertain it. She seems content to stay where she is, and when she presses herself tighter against him, he feels certain he has a chance at something more with her.

“I don’t want you to inconvenience yourself,” she murmur. He laughs, and she squeezes him ever so slightly. It’s as if she missed being near him as well.

“What’s inconvenient is not having you near,” he says truthfully. “I never know when I’m going to need my caretaker to bring me tea, or clean up a mess.”

“Or keep you company?”

He nods and rests his chin on her head. “Aye, that too.”

“Well, why don’t we go to the library? I can read out loud and keep you company.”

He nods and lets her go just enough to lead her to the library. “I can think of no other way I’d rather spend my evening.” She leans into him with a smile, her tendency to touch him returning with a vengeance.

He can, of course, think of other ways to spend his evening. But those will come in time he thinks, if Belle’s lingering touches and longing stares are any indication. Though they may not be able to enjoy his one particular fantasy of them coming together at his spinning wheel, straw and clothing flying everywhere, he finds that’s not such a great loss. At the very least, he could find some other material to spin into gold. One that his lovely little caretaker  _isn’t_ allergic to. 

 


	36. Steady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even death can stop them.Prompted by Panchibust.

It’s the screams that give her away. 

Rumplestiltskin’s ears twitch as he registers the familiar sound of someone being tortured. He focuses closely on where the sound is coming from, and it surprises him to find it’s coming form one of Regin'a towers. Curious, he followes the sound of tortured cries, pausing only briefly as he realizes it’s a  _woman’s_  voice that cries out in pain. A small flicker of hope ignites in his heart but he quickly snuffs it out, reminding himself that there was no way it could be  _her_ because she is dead.

Continuing on, Rumplestiltskin makes his way to the top of the stairs, passing the guards with barely a nod. He keeps climbing, wondering what is so special about this prisoner that Regina feels the need to do the torturing herself. Usually she forces one of her men to do her dirty work; Regina has always liked to take the easy way out of things.

He arrives at the room where the cries are loudest and it suddenly strikes him that he  _knows_ that voice. Using his magic, he shoves the door off its hinges and rushes into the room, freezing in absolute horror when he sees the Queen, dressed elaborately in black and red flowing silk that leaves her back bare. At her feet is another woman, dressed in a blue gown that is wrinkled and stained with blood. Regina’s eyes widen when she sees who has intruded on her, and quickly spins around, using the flowing length of her skirt to try to hide the body crumpled on the ground.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” Regina says smoothly. Rumple notices her lips quiver with fear and it only enrages him more. 

“Clearly,” He replies venomously. 

“Well, if you’d like, why don’t we go downstairs for some tea? Surely you don’t want to discuss….whatever you’re here for in a dank prison cell.” 

Magic swirls around Rumplestiltksin, his eyes flashing in rage. With one quick wave of his hand, Regina is thrown against the wall. Shackles appear out of thin air and wrap themselves around her tightly, causing her to cry out in pain. She struggles against the chains, even tries to free herself with her own magic, but she is stuck. Reassured that she will not be interrupting them, Rumplestiltskin falls to his knees, pulling the limp body of his beloved into his arms. He jostles her gently, whispering her name desperately. She does not move, and Rumple lays his fingers on her neck, searching for a pulse. He lets out a broken cry when he finds none.

Lifting the girl in his arms, Rumplestiltskin glares pointedly at Regina, his entire body shaking with rage. “You will pay,” he whispers, and Regina has the decency to look afraid. Despite holding Belle in is arms, Rumple flicks his wrist again, and Regina gasps as she realizes her tongue has suddenly gone missing. It lay on the floor of the dungeon, in a puddle of Belle’s blood, and Rumple laughs callously, “So you can’t cry for help."  He flicks his wrist again, and suddenly there is a cry of hundreds of men screaming in pain. It lasts only a few moments, then it goes silent. "So no one can come looking for you,” he whispers, “You’ll rot. And even that’s too good for you for what you’ve done.”

 

Purple smoke engulfs Rumplestiltskin and he vanishes without another word, leaving Regina to struggle against the ever-tightening chains that bind her. 

~000~

When the smoke clears, Rumple moves directly toward his work table where he gently deposits Belle. Now that the anger and rage toward Regina have worn off, all he feels is fear and dread at the thought of Belle never waking up. He casts spells on her body; mixes potions that he pours down her throat. Still she does not move. Her chest does not rise nor fall, and there is no heartbeat when Rumplestiltksin lays his head on her breast. Gasping, Rumplestiltskin falls to his knees, clutching his face in his hands. He has failed. He cast out his true love and let her be tortured by that bitch queen. At least he has the satisfaction of knowing Regina will hurt no one ever again, but the fact brings little solace as he thinks of his beloved’s body resting above him. Dead.

_Dead is dead._

Oh how the words haunt him! They had meant nothing when he’d informed King George that his son could not be brought back, but now he grieves at the meaning. Belle will not be coming back. He’s lost her, and now all he has left is her corpse, battered, bruised, and scarred. He weeps, tears falling bitterly onto the floor. Finally, he finds the strength to stand, and he stares blankly at Belle’s body, still so lovely despite….everything.

 

He wraps her in his arms, needing to feel her one last time as he cries more. Finally, there is nothing to be done but to see she has a proper burial and a grand resting place. He will dress her in gold, and adorn her coffin with roses. He will build a monument for her, to the woman that proved he still has a heart, and he will bury his heart with her. Never again will he love, save for his son.

 

He sighs, knowing he needs to begin making preparations; the cost of using so much magic will be great, but nothing is too much for his beloved. Gently laying her to rest on the table once more, he leans down over her, the last of his tears falling, and whispers, “Oh, Belle. I love you.” He presses a kiss to her lips, gentle and lingering, and backs away slowly.

 

Then a sharp pain grasps him and he collapses, darkness consuming him. 

~000~

It is too bright. Blinking, Rumplestiltskin opens his eyes, groaning at the pain that seems to grip him all over. He tries to sit up, but there is a heavy weight on his chest that keeps him from moving. Glancing down, he realizes groggily that it’s a person, with waves of long brown hair, and she is using him as a pillow.

 

Then it all comes back to him and Rumple jerks himself up, disturbing the woman on top of him. She topples over onto the floor, and lets out a soft groan of discomfort. Crawling so that he can hover over her, Rumple stares in shock and amazement to see two lovely blue eyes blinking up at him curiously.

 

“R-Rumple?” She breathes. He lets out a broken laugh and touches her face eagerly. 

“You’re alive,” he whispers, a smile spreading across his lips, “Belle, my sweetheart, you’re alive!”

 

 She watches him curiously for a moment, clearly still weak. “Y-you look-” She closes her eyes for a moment before they shoot open and she stares up at him in surprise. “You’re a man.”

 

He glances at his hands, still stroking her face, and exhales sharply. Instead of the scaled green-gold he’s become so used to, his hands are now a fleshy pink. He vaguely registers a sharp pain in his leg, and a stiff back from where he’d fallen earlier. He tries to summon magic, but finds that he no longer can feel the connection that once had been so ingrained within him.

 

True Love’s Kiss, he realizes as he stares down at his love. It had brought his love back from the dead, but only after taking the ultimate price: his power and magic. 

“I am,” he says with uneasy acceptance, leaning down to press his forehead gently against hers, “A foolish man who loves you. Belle, I’m so sorry, please-”

 

Her lips press weakly against his to shut him up. “You saved me,” she whispers as she reaches up to stroke his face. He can tell it’s not without great effort that she does so, and he reaches up to take her hand in his. “You love me.”

 

“I do,” he swears, “I do. So much. I love you, Belle.” 

She smiles, hums in contentment and lets her head lop to one side. “I’m so tired.” 

“I’ll carry you to your room,” he offers but she shakes her head slightly.

“Here,” she says tiredly, “Let’s rest here. I’m so weak, I don’t think I could move.” 

“You were dead,” he whispers, the pain still fresh despite his joy, “I’m sure you’re going to be weak for some time.”

 

She nods, as if it’s no big deal. “Just hold me and let me sleep,” she requests. He will give her anything she asks. 

“I’ll never let you go again,” he swears, kissing her again and again. She lets him, and even kisses back when she has the energy, but soon she can stay awake no more and drifts off to sleep.

 

There is a fear, deep in the recess of his mind, that this is a dream and her heart is not really beating and she isn’t really alive. But then she sighs in her sleep and murmurs his name, and his world revolves around her and there is no more room for fear and doubt. Rumple pulls her tighter to him, placing his hand rest over her heart, and lets the steady beat eventually lull him to sleep. 


	37. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumbelle, Christmas Eve, fireplace. Prompted by its-safer-i-stick-to-my-books

Rumplestiltskin has never been blessed with good fortune, but he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world. The Curse is broken. Belle is alive and remembers him. He’s one step closer to finding his son. Things are looking up, he thinks. The same cannot be said for other citizens of Storybrooke, but they aren’t his concern at the moment. Right now he’s focused on breaking the new curse so he can search for Bae. And he’s focused on Belle. She’s alive. She’s here, with him in his home. It’s something he long thought an impossible dream, yet after all this time, she’s here.

He recalls the last time they were together, in the old world. He remembers how she craved the knowledge he held. She’d craved it more than anything else, even freedom. He remembers her requests for him to teach her and how she’d wore him down until he relented. Her thirst for knowledge impressed him and so he made sure she never was without an opportunity to learn. He gave her a library, filled with more books than she’d ever be able to read. He taught her how to spin when she asked him (though he did not teach her how to spin gold. The last time he offered that lesson it ended in so much more than heartache.) He lets her help him in his tower; lets her watch as he mixes potions and cast spells. She’d soaked it all in, always looking for an opportunity to learn something new.

And she loves to ask why.

He recalls when Bae was but a wee thing, and the question had flown from his lips at an alarming rate. Belle has that same eagerness, and Rumplestiltskin remembers having to answer ‘why’ to a plethora of things.

“Why did you want me here?” “Why  _exactly_ did you nail the curtains down?” “Why are you putting  _that_ in a potion meant to be  _ingested_?” “Why do you spin so much?” “ _Why won’t you believe me?”_

It’s been years since she asked those questions, and while many things have changed, her penchant to ask questions has not. He’s still teaching her in this new world. And there are so many things she doesn’t know; doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what a car is, or how the television works. She doesn’t understand electricity, and now Rumplestiltskin finds himself answering her  _hows_ instead of  _whys._ She wants to know how everything works and despite his twenty-eight year advantage, he’s never really stopped to think about  _how_ the dishwasher cleans the dishes _._ He tries to explain, but it often leaves them both frustrated when he can’t quite give her the detailed answer she wants. She wants to learn and Rumple is desperate to teach her, but he knows he’s not quite qualified to be her source of information.

So when the snow begins to drape itself over the not-so-sleepy town of Storybrooke, Rumple decides there  _is_ something he can teach Belle. And it won’t require him reading a manual or looking it up on the Internet (which he also doesn’t quite know  _how_ to explain to her.) He leads her outside, early Christmas Eve morning, to teach her all about the snow. She follows him willingly, bundled in fleece and wool and a thick coat, and it amazes him that she is still so willing to follow his lead. She doesn’t need him. She never has. But the fact that she  _wants_ him is a miracle in itself and though Rumple’s first instinct is to question  _how_ and  _why,_  he resists (and realizes they are more alike than he ever imagined).

She’s never had a snowball fight before. She’s seen snow of course, but growing up in a time when Ogres terrorized the lands, her father had never let her go outside to frolic in it. But this world is free of Ogres, and Rumple is determined to teach Belle  _something_. He rolls snow into a ball and places it gently in Belle’s gloved hands. She squeezes too hard, causing the snow to crumble into dust. She laughs and kneels down to try making her own snowball. Soon they have a pile of them at their disposal, and Rumplestiltskin declares a snowball fight. Belle asks him to clarify and he answers by whacking her in the chest with the frozen weapon. She tenses, the shock of the cold and wet snow catching her off guard. Then she looks up at Rumple with bright, determined eyes. She understands what this is, and it’s with a shriek of laughter that she grabs a handful of snowballs and races after Rumple, declaring that she’ll get him back for hitting her.

Rumple hides behind his car, using a bit of magic to keep his leg from throbbing. He doesn’t use much, aware of Belle’s slight aversion to his constant use of magic, but if he’s going to beat her in this game, and he’s going to have to cheat a little. He’ll pay for it later, anyway. He peeks over the trunk to see if Belle is in sight and gasps as a ball hits him square on the forehead. He wipes the snow away from his face and glares as Belle stands out in the open, laughing and clapping. She’s proud of herself, and he is too, but this is war, and all’s fair.

Eventually, Belle can take no more of Rumple ruthlessly pelting her with snowballs. “I surrender! You win!” She laughs.

Rumplestiltskin smirks as Belle drops the snow in her hands and lifts them up in defeat. He chuckles as well and makes his way over to her, dropping the snow in his hands. Belle reaches out to hug him and he notices that she is shivering almost violently. But she’s smiling too, so Rumple counts it as another victory.

Then he gets a handful of snow down the back of his shirt.

It’s cold and unpleasant, but Belle is still smiling, and he can’t help but tug her closer once more. “Let’s get you inside,” he says as he lets her go and begins walking toward the house. He’s frozen now, too, but then Belle slips her gloved hand in his and suddenly the chill of the wet snow melts away.

He helps her take off her coat and shakes all the snow out onto the ground of the mud room. After they strip down further, Rumple grabs the robe he’d left on the small table and wraps her up in it, and she sighs as she settles into the warmth. He changes as well, fighting away the blush that threatens to rise when he realizes Belle hasn’t turned away and is watching him innocently. They’ve seen each other undressed before, but it never ceases to amaze him that she can look upon him with love and affection. He doesn’t see anything about him deserving of that smile, but she’s offering it to him once more and so he accepts it gratefully.

He leads her to the living room and tells her to sit while he makes some preparations. He lights a fire in the fireplace and plugs in the lights of the Christmas tree. He disappears into the kitchen to make them some tea and when he returns, Belle is standing before the tree they’d decorated, studying the ornaments carefully. She smiles as Rumple hands her a steaming cup of chai with honey and she lets the hot porcelain warm her frigid hands. Rumple stretches out onto the floor of the fireplace and watches as Belle walks around the tree. He can tell she has a multitude of questions.

“Something on your mind, love?”

She nods and moves to join him. She settles against him, sticking her feet closer to the hearth in an effort to warm them.

“Just thinking about everything I’ve learned,” she says at length, her eyes watching the flickering lights of the tree.

“Such as?” He prompts.

“Well, you told me that Christmas is tomorrow,” she says softly, “And that it’s a special day that you spend with people you love and you give them presents and have a good time.”

“That’s right…” He’s not sure what’s wrong. She’s frowning slightly now, but he recalls that when he originally told her about the holiday, she’d been intrigued and happy.

“Well, I didn’t get you anything,” she says with a sigh. She nods toward the packages under the tree. There are only a few, but they’re all for her. “I have no money. I have no way of  _earning_  money. I wouldn’t even know what to get you if I  _had_ money.”

“Belle,” Rumple says as he moves so he can face her, “I don’t need  _anything_ _._  I’ve got a house full of useless junk and a shop that’s full of even more. I don’t need any more  _things_.”

“I suppose that’s good then,” she says with a small half-smile, “Since I didn’t get you any _thing_.”

Rumple chuckles and then moves again, scooting over to the tree and pulling out a small box. He turns to face Belle, and takes a moment to appreciate how lovely she looks in the firelight. Her hair is half dry, the curls a bit frizzy and her cheeks are red from a mix of the cold and the heat of the fire. She’s beautiful. He clears his throat and cradles the box in his hands. “Typically,” he begins, “People don’t open gifts until Christmas morning. But there’s always exceptions to the rule, and I’ve been particularly eager to give you this one.” He holds it out to her and she stares at it curiously for a few moments before taking it from him. There are only so many thing that could fit in a box this size and she wonders if it’s what she thinks it is.

She unwraps it carefully, and lifts the lid. Her brows furrow in confusion. “A key?”

She picks it up and turns the little tag that’s attached over. She gasps.

“A library?” He’s never heard her sound so hopeful.

“I have more money and  _things_ than I could ever need,” he explains gently, “And I would like nothing more than to share it all with you. But I also know you, Belle, and I know that you’ve always wanted to be in charge of your life. You would never be satisfied just living here and letting me take care of you. I would love to do it, but it wouldn’t be fair to you.” He reaches out for the key and Belle gives it to him.

“This is the key to the Storybrooke Public Library. It’s been closed for the entire duration of the Curse, but I think it’s time someone changed that.”

“Me?”

Rumple nods. “It’s a job,” he explains, “So you can make your own money to do with as you wish. There are books, obviously, but they’re of this world, so you can learn about all the things I’m not able to teach you.” He stretches out his hand, placing the key in her palm and cupping her hand in his. “There’s an apartment above the library, so if you ever decided you wanted to experience life on your own, you would have a place to go. You’ve always been able to do what you want here, Belle, but now you have the means to be completely self-sufficient, if you want.”

Belle stares at the key in her hands, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re giving me my freedom,” she says softly and it’s only when she voices it that Rumple realizes that is  _exactly_  what he’s doing.

“You were a prisoner in my castle. And in Regina’s. And in that damn hospital,” he spits, angry, “You’ve never had a chance to live your life the way you want to, and while I always want to be part of your life, I certainly am not going to keep you from living it the way you wish.”

He’s not sure what he expects, but it isn’t finding himself on his back, arms full of Belle and his face covered in tear drops and kisses.

“Thank you,” she breathes over and over as she kisses him. He manages to capture her lips with his own at length and it’s the best gift he could have asked for.

“It’ll take a lot of work to get the library open to the public,” he says when she stops kissing him long enough to rest her cheek against his shoulder, “But I’ll help you with as much as I can. I’m at your disposal.”

“I like the sound of that,” she whispers against him and he bites back a groan. “But I’m also not going anywhere.”

Rumple lifts his head up to acknowledge her and she catches his lips with hers. “A job and a means to make my own way in this world is exactly what I want,” she says softly, “But what good would any of that be if I couldn’t come home and share it all with you at the end of the day?”

“Not much good at all, I imagine.” He doesn’t have to imagine. He  _knows._

“So, I’ll go to work and have a wonderful time surrounded by books and then I’ll come home and curl up with you and we can tell each other about our days and I’ll actually have something to contribute to the conversation!” She smiles and it’s clear to Rumple that he’s made her extremely happy. He can’t imagine how she could ever be happy with him, or because of him, but she is. And that’s enough.

He sits up, maneuvering Belle so that she once again is nestled beside him. She thanks him again, with words and kisses, and he pulls her to him with a contented sigh. They remain by the fireplace for some time, discussing plans to renovate and open the library, and while the flames in the hearth keep them warm, the love between them  _burns._


	38. Closet Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret Hiding Place. Prompted by itschippedcup

Belle claps her hand over her mouth when she hears his footfalls in the hallway. It’s only a matter of time before he makes his way in here. She’s thought about running; of finding another place to hide but now it’s too late. This is a prime hiding spot, or it  _was_ , but now he’s practically upon her and her blood boils and races in anticipation. She always feels this way when he’s on the brink of finding her. It’s a rush of blood and adrenaline and she’s so glad they play this game.

It started by accident. She’s finished her chores one day and decides to explore more of her new home. She stumbles across a library, one of several she would later learn, and gets lost in a book. Rumple finds her several hours later, quite put out that he’s wasted time searching for his maid. She promises she won’t do it again and for a few days she keeps her word. However, Rumple gives her her own library soon after and it becomes a frequent occurrence that hr throws open the door to whatever room she’s gotten distracted in, glaring and grumbling about how he didn’t made a deal to play hide-and-seek with his maid all day.

The thought of the Dark One playing hide-and-seek is enough to send her into a fit of laughter and so she quietly decides that they are going to play. She begins to hide, sometimes in the most obvious of places, sometimes in the darkest corners of the castle, holding back her laughter until Rumplestiltskin happens upon her.

But then, he begins to hide too. She looks for him one day, needing to ask him something about the tomes he left on the table in the Grand Hall, but he’s nowhere to be found. Frowning, she searches everywhere until she’s looked in all the places he usually is and comes up empty. And then she smiles knowingly. He’s playing with her. She begins to run through the castle, opening every door and throwing back every curtain to try to find him. When she does, it’s only because he swoops in behind her and grabs her by the waist, swinging her around as he proclaims he’s the master of hide-and-seek and no pretty little maid can ever beat him. 

But she does beat him. She found this little room a few months after she came to the castle and took solace in the small space with its large window and small desk and chairs. It’s the smallest room in the whole castle she thinks, smaller than the pantry or the large closet where she stores all the clean linens. It’s tiny and cozy and she’s retreated here more times than she can count to read in peace when Rumple is in one of his moods. Now she’s taken it as her hiding spot in their game and all secrecy is about to be spoiled. He’ll find her here and see the small stack of books and the mismatched tea set. He’ll see the large blanket draped carelessly over one of the chairs and he’ll know this is where she sneaks off to. It should be a disappointment, to lose the secret hiding place she’s created for herself but instead she feels excitement. Perhaps it can become  _their_  secret hiding place, away from the world.   
  
His boots echo on the stone floor as he opens all the doors along the hallway and she can almost imagine the look of hope that melts into disappointment each time he reveals another empty room. He’s growing closer by the second, and for a moment she considers stepping out to end this madness. But no, she decides. She will not give up so easily. Being chased is half the fun, but getting caught is the other half.

“I know you’re here somewhere, Dearie,” he says in a menacing sing-song tone that might illicit fear in anyone else. But this is Belle, and instead of being afraid she bites her knuckle to stifle the giggle that threatens to give her away. Of course she’s  _somewhere_ , she wants to call out to him. She can’t just disappear like he can.  

The door bursts open then and Belle jumps back, startled. There before her stands Rumplestiltskin, looking disheveled and annoyed. He stalks toward her and grabs her by the waist, pulling her so that she is flush against him. “Got you,” he says before crushing his lips against hers. He kisses her thoroughly and holds her so tightly in his arms that Belle decides if this is the reaction she’s going to get, she should hide more often. Of course it’s much more enjoyable to hide away in his arms, she thinks, caught up in all the pleasant sensations he makes her feel.

He breaks the kiss and stares down at her, eyes alight with mirth. She smiles up at him warmly and waits for him to notice where they are. He glances up to take in the room. Belle watches him as he looks around and it’s clear from the look on his face he has no idea what this room is. There is a very good chance this is the first time he’s ever entered it. He notices the tea set and the blanket and chuckles, “Did you not think I would ever find you?”

Belle rests her head against his chest and sighs, “I knew you would,” she said softly, “But I’ve been hiding here for months now. It’s my own little sanctuary away from the world.”

Rumplestiltskin frowns. “Away from me?” He asks.

She can hear the fear in his voice and is quick to reassure him. “Never,” she insists as she nods over to the set service, “I’ve always had this room set up for two.”

“The point is  _not_ to be found, my dear,” Rumple teases, flicking her nose with his finger. She laughs and bats his hand away.

“I actually hoped we could hide away together.”

"You want to hide away  _with_ me?” He asks, his voice low. She presses a kiss to his cheek and smiles.

“You have visitors that come at all hours demanding your services,” she reasons, “I know you have important things to do, but sometimes it’s nice to just get away from the demands of the rest of the world.”

“And cater to  _your_  demands instead?” He teases with a mischievous grin.  

“All I  _ask_ ,” She stresses, “Is that you love me. And let me love you in return.”

“I’m a difficult man to love,” he whispers, leaning closer to her, “But if you’re up to the challenge, then I gladly welcome it.”

“I love a good challenge,” she replies, tugging his lips down to hers. He lifts his head suddenly when he hears a loud, resounding knock on the door.

Belle frowns, “Who is it?”

Rumplestiltskin shrugs and kicks the little door shut with his foot. “Don’t care,” he says as he moves to sit in one of the chairs and pulls Belle onto his lap, “I’m hiding today.”

“May I hide too?”

“Of course,” he says as she curls against him, “Let’s just hope we aren’t found.”

They remain there for the rest of the day, hidden from the world and all its demands upon him. It becomes a habit after that. They find themselves seeking out this room on a weekly basis, the need to lock themselves away from the world overwhelming. They are the only two in the castle, but Rumple is known across realms and there is hardly a day that goes by that he’s not called upon. Some days it becomes too much and so they seek out the little closet together to catch a moment of uninterrupted intimacy. It’s their secret; their haven.

  
\- - -

“We are  _officially_ closed,” Rumple says as he enters the back room of his shop. Belle turns to look at him lovingly and he wastes no time crossing the distance between them. He leans his cane on the table, then grabs her and pulls her into his arms. She winds hers around his neck and welcomes his lips on hers, sighing contentedly as they enjoy each other. It’s been a hectic week, one in which Rumple’s services seem to be required almost twenty-four seven, and Belle is eager for a moment alone with her True Love.

Rumple begins to pull at her clothes, apparently as eager as she. Belle laughs as he tugs harshly on her shirt. “We could go home,” she whispers as he presses a kiss to her neck but he shakes his head, his hair tickling her.

“No. Now.”

She doesn’t argue and yanks off his suit jacket. Next she grabs his tie, unknotting it quickly so that she can start on his buttons. He gets her shirt off and is about to dispose of her bra when the bell jingles happily as the front door swings open. Belle and Rumple freeze and glance at each other with panic in their eyes as they stand there half undressed. They listen as the footsteps of the intruder gets closer. Gold is frozen in fear but Belle is brave, and quickly bends down to gather the clothes on the floor. She stands and, thinking quickly, shoves Rumple backward toward the broom closet that happens to be open behind them. He staggers backwards but catches himself on the door frame. He looks confused but Belle doesn’t stop and quickly pushes again, a little lighter this time and he stumbles back into the closet. She slips in and shuts the door with a swift and soft  _click._ A moment later, they hear the beads clatter against each other as the intruder enters the back room.

“Gold?” The voice of Emma Swan calls out curiously. Belle glances up at Gold, and sees the annoyance on his face. He’s tired, she can tell, of being interrupted to answer the beck and call of the Charming family and their never ending need of his resources. And quite frankly, she’s tired too. Can they not get a moment of peace in this world?

“Rumplestiltskin?” Another voice joins Emma’s and they both recognize it as Snow White’s. If they are here, Charming cannot be far behind. And where there is action is also Henry, who is no doubt lurking about somewhere in the shop as well. It’s a bloody family reunion at the most inopportune time and Gold wants them all to leave so he can finish what he and Belle started a few minutes ago.

“I don’t think he’s here,” Snow White says with a sigh. Belle and Gold hold their breath, looking back and forth between themselves and the door, listening intently for the much desired fading footsteps that will signal the Charming’s departure.

“No, he has to be here; his cane is right there,” Emma said matter of fact and Belle drops her forehead to Gold’s chest, biting back a groan of annoyance. How had they forgotten the cane?

“Well, maybe he’s using magic to make it better,” Henry’s voice says suddenly, “The book says that when he was the Dark One he didn’t have to use a cane. Maybe he’s just doing that again to seem really powerful.”

“Or trying to impress Belle,” Emma mutters dryly. Gold rolls his eyes. Not that it is any of Miss Swan’s business, but Belle has made it quite clear that she rather  _likes_ that cane. She thinks he looks extra suave with it and he’ll be damned if he’s going to give it up now that he knows what it does to her. Belle begins to shake and he looks down at to see that she’s biting her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle her laughter. Apparently she finds something about this funny.

He uses his fingers to gently tug her lip away from her teeth and whispers in the softest voice possible, “Allow me.” He kisses her then, biting at her lip gently, and he swallows the sigh that Belle releases. She drops the clothing she’s been holding in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair. Gold squeezes her hip with his hand in an effort to keep his own groans silent. It would be one thing to be caught half naked with Belle in the back of his shop; it’s another entirely to be caught half naked in the closet making out while his family snoops around outside, just within hearing distance of whispered moans and ghostly sighs.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s here,” Charming’s voice states as he enters the back room. Belle tenses slightly, but Gold moves his hands up to her shoulders and squeezes, massaging lightly as he continues to kiss and nibble at her lips, refusing to let go.

“Guess not,” Snow agrees with her husband.

“We can always come back later,” Charming suggests. There is a murmur of agreement and they begin to file out of the back room. Rumple pulls away so he can listen and is able to hear faint comments of, ‘Where could he be?’ and ‘Why was the door unlocked if he’s closed?’ Henry adds, ‘Maybe he’s at the library?’

The bell jingles again and the door slams shut and both Belle and Rumple breathe a sigh of relief. Belle glances back at him and whispers softly, “I think they’re gone.” Rumple hums in acknowledgement but instead of moving to open the door, he waves his hand, causing the closet to shift, and suddenly a small bed appears on the floor. It looks identical to the cot that is just outside. Belle raises an eyebrow at Rumple in amusement. They’re standing half naked in a tiny little closet, and Belle recalls another closet in another land. She thinks she would give anything to be back there. But they can’t get to that room, and even if they could, they’re both impatient, and Rumple wastes no time pulling Belle against him and begins pressing kisses to her neck. “I feel inclined to hide away from the world today,” he murmurs against her.

She smiles and begins fumbling with his belt. “And cater to my demands?”

He nods against her and moves to lie on the bed. He frowns as his leg throbs, “Though, unfortunately, this isn’t as nice as our previous hiding space.” Belle shrugs and crawls down to join him on the bed. He quickly discards his shirt and kicks off his shoes, eager to be with his love.

“This’ll do,” she declares as she guides his hand to the zipper of her skirt. The garment is quickly removed.

An hour later they tumble out of the closet sore and stiff, but completely satisfied. Belle is glowing and giggly and says something about ‘remodeling’ the closet so they can fit a tea set in there as well. “It’ll be a tight fit,” she thinks aloud, “But really, we don’t need  _that_ much space.”

Rumple laughs as Belle begins pondering the benefits of a hanging cot instead of a bed, or perhaps a large chair. She’s determined to make this closet work, it seems; a remnant of their time together at the Dark Castle. Rumple suggests they create a secret room everywhere they frequent: his shop, his home, the library. Belle seems to love the idea, for she grabs him by the hand and leads him back into the closet.

The Charming’s can wait, he thinks as he pulls the door shut. He’s got more important things to attend to at the moment. 


	39. Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle finds a cat. Prompted by steampunk-archer.

_Meow._

Belle looked to her left at the sound. Curious, she moved over to the bushes on the edge of the path to see what was wrong. She placed her basket on the ground and dug though the bush, gasping with concern when she spotted a small, black and white kitten. Reaching down, she carefully picked up the small animal. She cooed when it let out a pathetic mewl, and tucked the kitten in her basket full of straw. It was scrawny and weak, Belle noticed, and she knew she would need to get home quickly so she could care for it. 

She burst through the front door of the Dark Castle, calling for Rumple as she made her way to the Great Hall. Rumple appeared almost instantly, a look of worry on his face. “What’s the matter, sweet-” 

 _Meow_. 

He blinked, and looked toward the basket in Belle’s arms. It was small, and skinny. He could see its ribs outlined underneath it’s matted fur. He looked up to see Belle staring at him pleadingly and he just  _knew_ what she was going to ask. 

“Oh, no. Belle-”

“Please, Rumple!” She cried, setting the basket down and stepping to him. “He’s sick and if we don’t help him he’ll die.” 

“I don’t take care of strays,” he said blandly and Belle huffed. 

“ _I’m_  the caretaker here,” she reminded him, “So please? Can I take care of him? You’ll never know he’s even here!” 

Rumple stared at his True Love, whose eyes stared back imploringly. He sighed. He could deny her nothing, and if she wanted to take care of a cat, then he certainly wouldn’t stop her. He stepped over to the kitten and produced a bowl of milk. Scooping up the kitten, Rumple placed both on the floor and watched as the little thing began to lap eagerly at the milk, mewling in content. 

“Just keep him out of my way." 

Belle wrapped her arms around Rumple and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you so much!” She exclaimed. Rumple vanished a moment later so she wouldn’t see the smile that tugged at his lips. 

 

 _One month later…._

“Mistoffelees?"  

Belle searched frantically for her kitten, calling out his name in panic. She’d only turned away for a moment, but it had been enough time for the mischievous thing to sneak away. 

She searched each room, looking for her pet, wondering just how on earth he had managed to simply disappear from sight. It was amazing, she thought to herself as she moved from room to room, just how strong and healthy he had become. He’d been so weak when she’d found him, but after a couple weeks of tender nursing, Mistoffelees had become strong, and above all else, a troublemaker. Belle thought she was going mad at times, thinking she heard him in one room, only to find him somewhere else entirely.

She reached the last possible room he could be in, and sighed. Rumple had not been fond of keeping a cat, but she suspected it was all show. However, she  _was_ certain that if Mistoffelees got into his work room and into some potions, there would be hell to pay. 

She opened the door, ready to call out for her cat, but stopped short when she noticed Rumple sitting at his work bench, one hand stirring a small cauldron, the other stroking Mistoffelees’ head gently. 

"Now, we just have to add the final ingredient, and we’ll be done,” He said to the kitten, scratching his chin when he meowed in response.  Smiling, Belle quietly closed the door, leaving her two boys to their work. 


	40. Need to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before she can marry another, there’s something she needs to know.

“Good night, my love.” 

“Good night, Sir William.” 

Belle spun out of the man’s reach and into her room. She quickly shut the door, turning the key to lock it, then leaned against it with a sigh. This was horrible. She pushed herself away from the door and moved to her vanity where she began to unpin her hair. It had been six months since she returned from the Dark Castle, and her father had wasted no time in setting her up with a new betrothed. But how could she marry now that she’d experienced what it truly meant to love someone? 

Sighing, she reached for her brush and began to brush her hair. There was nothing wrong with Sir William. But he wasn’t Rumplestiltskin. The thought of his name caused Belle to tremble, and she let her head fall onto the marble surface of the vanity. Oh how she missed him! 

She sat, staring blindly at her feet, letting her memories take hold. She remembered everything as if it happened yesterday. Her excitement at him catching her, the look on his face when she returned from town. The feeling of his lips upon hers. It had been so utterly fantastic and terrible that she knew she would never be able to kiss another man as long as she lived. Or so long as her heart beat for the Dark One. 

William was a fine fellow; like Gaston, he was the perfect sort of gentile knight over whom ladies of the court tended to swoon. But Belle was not like those ladies. She did not find William attractive, she did not find him charming or funny. She found him dull and annoying, if she were honest, and she often found herself wishing his deep rumble of a laugh would melt into fitful little impish giggles.  _That_ was how a man laughed, she mused.

She knew nothing would ever come of her time with Rumplestiltskin. He’d burned that bridge the moment he kicked her out and Belle knew the only sensible thing to do was to get over him and move on. Perhaps William wouldn’t love her the way she knew Rumplestiltskin could; nor would she love William the way she did the Dark One, but perhaps it was best to  _try._  She hadn’t been particularly interested in trying with Gaston, and she wasn’t interested in trying now; but before there had only been boredom and a longing for something else. Now there was a desire for another man. An unattainable man. It was best to move on. 

And for all his faults that weren’t really there, William was a kind man. He was one of the few gentlemen willing to vie for Belle’s hand after her association with the Dark One, so she could not hold too much against him. He seemed willing to care for her, and did not question her love of books though he did not quite share her enthusiasm for them. It would be a fine marriage. But it wouldn’t be all that it could. 

 

Belle lifted her head to look in the mirror. It had been a luxury back at the Dark Castle to use a mirror; they were apparently dangerous. Somehow linked to that wretched Queen. Now Belle could look in a mirror whenever she desired, and some small part of her hoped that perhaps on the other side of that mirror was her True Love looking back. She shook her head and turned away. Those thoughts needed to be banished. But how? 

She glanced back in the mirror and frowned as the realization dawned on her. She needed to see him one last time. If she could know, once and for all, that he did not want her, she could move on. There was no use in dwelling on what one could not have, and while Belle had hope that he  _might_ want her still, she could not marry another. The ring on her finger weighed heavily on her hand, and she sighed. She needed this for herself. She needed to know. It was now or never. The wedding was soon, and if she didn’t do it now, she feared she never would.  _Be brave, Belle._

She stood, leaving her hair down and only half brushed, and called her True Love’s name. She waited a moment, wondering if he would appear in a great burst of magic and grandeur, or if he would silently slip in, uncaring. Would he come at all? 

Minutes ticked by and he did not come. With a sigh, she turned, her heart sinking with utter disappointment. Then there was a distinct crackle in the air, a puff of purple smoke, and there he stood. Belle felt the urge to rush to him, but the way he stood, closed off and eyes full of mistrust kept her in place. Perhaps this wouldn’t cure her of her love for him. One look and she was ready to beg him to take her away. To forgive her and love her. 

 

“Can I help you, dearie?” He asked and Belle winced. 

 

“Please don’t call me that. Not after everything we’ve been through." 

 

His eyes narrowed. "And what have  _we_ been through?” he asked cruelly. 

 

Belle sighed. She hadn’t brought him here to fight. She merely wanted the truth. And it seemed she had it. 

 

“I just wanted-” she sighed and began wringing we hands together. Rumple glanced down, then lashed out, grabbing her hand roughly. 

 

“Just wanted to rub it in how easily you’ve moved on from the monster?” He sneered, throwing her hand down. She frowned and stepped forward, grabbing his arm. 

 

“It was my father’s idea,” she whispered. “And I thought since you didn’t love me that it would be for the best. But I can’t stop thinking about you." 

 

She could see him fighting with himself. To believe her or not? He frowned and stepped away, "No one can love me,” he said simply, “And I’ve no use for lying girls who think they can bat their eyes and trick me so easily." 

 

"But it wasn’t a trick!” Belle exclaimed! “I didn’t know who she was, Rumple. I thought I was-” she paused. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what my reason was. You hate me; I can see that. And that was what I needed to know.” She turned away, suddenly feeling very tired. “You can go.” 

“What do you mean that’s what you need to know?” 

“I can’t marry William knowing there might still be hope for us. And I don’t think there is.” 

Rumple whirled her around to face him. “You can’t marry him,” he said urgently.

She blinked up at him, tears stinging her eyes. “You don’t want me. I’m resigned to my fate. I had my adventure, and I’ve found it’s safer if I stick to the ones in my books.” 

There was a long silence between them. Rumple held onto Belle’s arms, staring at her curiously. He’d been so hurt when he’d thought her act of love a betrayal. It had been six months since they’d last spoken, and that had given him a considerable amount of time to think about what happened. There was still hurt there, that much was true, but the thought of Belle in another man’s arms, no matter how unwilling she might be, was enough to make him sick. True Love or not, Belle was  _his._

_“_ Why did you kiss me?” 

Belle blinked. “What?"  Rumplestiltskin repeated his question. Belle watched him for a moment, then spoke. "The Queen,” she sighed, “Said you suffered from a curse. And that True Love could save you. I didn’t think about your magic. I don’t know why you need it so much. But I didn’t mean to take that from you. I just wanted to take away all the bad and replace it with good.” Belle stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself. “I had no idea she was one of your enemies.” 

“I have many,” Rumplestiltskin said simply. 

“So I realize.” 

They stood, neither moving or relenting. Belle watched him intently, wishing she could read him as easily as she could William. That was one thing she liked about the dull knight: she knew his exact thoughts at all times. But then, wasn’t part of the thrill of loving Rumplestiltskin that he challenged her? Kept her guessing and on her toes? It had been an adventure to love him. Loving William, should she ever accomplish such a task, would be….easy. 

And Belle had no desire for easy. 

“Are you going to marry this…William?” Rumple asked softly. Belle shrugged. 

“I haven’t been given a reason not to.” 

He looked hurt at that, and Belle regretted the words. She was not a cruel person, but it was true. She would not throw her life away for an uncertainty. Belle valued knowledge greatly, and she wanted to  _know_ what she would be getting in return. So far he had simply demanded that she not wed her young man. He hadn’t given her a reason  _why._

_“_ I- I’m not a good man, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin sighed. “I’ve done terrible things.” 

“I know.” 

“There’s certain things I must do. Things I cannot let  _anyone_ prevent me from doing. Even you.” He stepped forward and lifted his hand to play with Belle’s hair. She closed her eyes at the sensation of his fingers. What would he say if he knew William liked her hair? 

She decided to see. “William plays with my hair sometimes,” she said softly, and bit back the smile that tugged at her lips when she heard Rumple growl. 

“I don’t give a damn what that boy likes,” he growled, “And you’re changing the subject.” 

“Maybe if you’d just told me about your son, this wouldn’t be an issue,” she said sharply, noticing Rumple’s startled look. “Don’t give me that look,” she snapped, “I’m smart, remember? You’ve mentioned you lost your son. You don’t want to give up your magic and power because you have something you’re doing.” She sighed and moved to sit back at her vanity. 

“I’ve had six months to dwell on it,” she said weakly, “You’re trying to find your son. I don’t know anything else, but I was able to figure out that much.” 

Rumple stepped forward and knelt at her side. “You always were too clever for your own good.” 

“Not clever enough to keep you.” 

His gaze softened and he rested his hand tentatively on her cheek, “Belle,” he whispered longingly. 

“Just tell me you want me,” Belle pleaded, “Just one word and I’m yours.” 

“What about William?” 

“I don’t give a damn about William,” she snapped, her eyes meeting his in a hot glare. “Do you want me or not? If you don’t, I’ll leave you alone forever.” 

“How can you still want me?” 

“Just answer the question, you insufferable man!” 

A puff of magic swirled around her, and before she could ask what he was doing, she felt his lips on hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Belle gasped against his lips and tried to pull away, but Rumple kept a tight hold on her. He kissed her hard, and after the panic left Belle, she noticed he was not changing. Her heart sagged. Did they no longer have True Love? 

She finally pushed him away, a frown marring her features. Rumple was breathless, and looked at her with concern. “Doesn’t that answer your question?” 

“You aren’t changing.” 

He tilted his head in confusion, then glanced down at himself, still very much gold-skinned and scaled. “Oh,” he said with a careless wave of his hand. “Magic.” 

“A spell?” 

“To protect me from you.” 

“So you still love me?” 

“Yes. And you still love me?” 

“Yes.”

He smiled, and it was a beautiful sight to behold. He stood and grabbed her hands, pulling her onto her feet. “Then why are we still here?” 

Belle laughed and wound her arms around his neck. He leaned down to kiss her again, and they disappeared in a swirl of smoke. A moment later, the garish ring William had placed on Belle’s finger clattered on the ground, forgotten. 


	41. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumbelle/Outlaw Queen double date in Storybrooke.

Belle sits uncomfortably across from Regina at Granny’s. She squirms slightly, taking comfort in the fact that Rumplestiltskin was beside her. He will protect her if Regina tries anything, she knows, but she also knows that Regina is trying to be a better person. She glances up at Robin, the man she’d rescued once in another world and smiles softly. This is for him, she reminds herself. And she knows better than most what it was like to be in love with someone the rest of the world considers evil. 

Though, admittedly, Belle is slightly biased. At least Rumple hadn’t locked up her for three decades and stolen her memories. But that was in the past, and Regina is trying. She has Henry back, as well as a new love and little boy with big brown eyes who adores her. Belle prides herself on being able to see the truth about people, and if she’s honest, there is still some good left in Regina. 

There has to be, for Robin to be so enchanted by her. 

When Robin had first told her about his idea, a double date with them and their loves, Belle had been hesitant. She guiltily recalls wondering if Regina had cursed him, if she had taken his heart, or if she had threatened harm on sweet little Roland, but then chastised herself for being no better than those who’d made the same assumptions against her and Rumple. 

So she bit her tongue and agreed to join them. 

And now she sits, Rumple trying his best to be civil and talk with Robin. It seems they are both determined not to bring up their past, but the bad blood still remained. There is a lot of bad blood at this table, really, and Belle wipes her sweaty palms on her napkin, wishing she could be brave. 

Regina speaks then, causing Belle to jump. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Regina sighs, though Belle could see the other woman’s lips twitch in a small smile. “I said, how are things at the library?” 

“Oh,” Belle sighs in relief, pleased to enter a discussion in which she is extremely familiar, “It’s going very well. Business has started to pick up again now that things have….settled down.” 

Everyone at the table nods in understanding at that. It’s been hectic the past few weeks and the fact they’re even sitting down leisurely for lunch is a luxury. “That’s good,” Regina says with a smile that still looked sinister, despite her efforts. “I know Henry always wanted it open.” 

“He’s my number one customer,” Belle grins, then tosses an affectionate look to Rumple. “Tied with this one, of course.” 

Rumple’s cheeks redden, and he busies himself with rereading the menu. Robin senses his embarrassment and speaks up, “Perhaps I’ll bring Roland by one day,” he muses, “I’m sure he’d love to see all the books.” 

Belle lights up. “That would be wonderful!” She declares, “He’s such a sweet boy. You must be so proud of him.” 

Robin smiles in a way that both Rumple and Regina are familiar. He  _is_ proud of his son. They’re all proud of their sons, and it’s a common ground they can share, since there isn’t likely to be anything else. 

Their conversation sticks to Neal, Henry, and Roland, and Belle falls easily into the mix, having a special bond with all three boys. Neal may technically be her step-son, but she feels more like the brother she never had. Henry and Roland are just precious, even if Henry would cringe at being called such. Puberty may not have changed his view on magic, now that his memories are restored, but he certainly isn’t interested in being referred to as anything less than ‘gallant’ and 'knightly’. He’s a prince in the making, and no mistake, though Belle is certain that he’ll develop a few…unsavory skills from the darker side of his family. How many of his relations were thieves at one point? 

Their food comes, and the conversation gives way to silence as they all eat. Belle is focused on her hamburger, grateful for the distraction once more. The meal ends far too soon, and the men both stand to pay for their dates, leaving Belle and Regina alone. Belle feels the instinctive desire to flee, and moves toward the edge of the booth, claiming she needs to visit the restroom. She’s halted by Regina’s perfectly manicured hand on her wrist. Belle flinches, but does not move. 

“While they’re gone,” she says softly, “I just want to say…..I’m….sorry. For locking you up. And for…Lacey.” 

Belle hadn’t expected that. She wants to forgive her, but over thirty years of her life are gone.  Belle wants to accept the apology, but somehow she feels justified in thinking a simple 'sorry’ isn’t quite good enough for all she’s been made to endure. And just for daring to love someone.

 

Regina continues. “I can’t take back what I did,” she says, “And there are some things I don’t regret.” That doesn’t come as a surprise to Belle, but she remains silent on the matter, “But I was separated from my love once,” she sighs, “And it was a fate worse than any I’ve endured. And if I’m sorry for anything I’ve done, it’s that I caused people to lose precious time with those they loved.” 

She risks a glance over to the counter, where Robin and Rumple stand, seemingly oblivious to the exchange. “I have a second chance,” she says with a sigh that’s almost dreamy, “He’s not being forced, he’s not here under blackmail or threat. He’s here because somehow he sees something in me worth loving.” She gives Belle a mischievous smile, “I’d say we’re a modern day Beauty and the Beast, but sadly that role has been taken.” 

Belle smiles, “He is handsome, though.” 

Regina chuckles, then becomes solemn. “And I’m a monster.” 

Belle turns her wrist, still clutched in Regina’s hand and squeezes, “You’re not a monster,” Belle says, and is surprised to find she means it. “Not anymore.” 

Regina seems taken aback, but there’s no time to say anything else as the guys return, both looking at their loves curiously. “Something wrong?” Rumple asks, and it’s clear he won’t hesitate to strike if Regina has upset Belle. Tension covers them like a sudden rain shower and Belle decides once and for all that if Robin can see the good in Regina and she can see the good in Rumple, everything else is water under the proverbial bridge and they can move on. 

“Just clearing the air,” Belle says nonchalantly as she removes her hand from Regina’s and stands. She slips on her cardigan and offers Rumple a loving smile. “And asking Regina if she, Robin and Roland might want to join us and Henry for dinner one night next week.” 

Regina hides her surprise well, and stands next to Robin, who slings a careless arm around Regina’s shoulders. “I’ll have to check my schedule,” she says with practiced poise, “But I think that would be…nice.” Robin nods, clearly up for anything in this new world, and they say their goodbyes. 

—

Walking home, Robin tugs Regina to a stop. “You never told me why you wanted me to ask them out for lunch,” he says, watching her curiously. “I know your history with the Dark One, but not Belle. What happened?” 

Regina, recalling her promise to tell Robin all about her past, sighs. “I may have prevented them from being together,” she sighs. “I merely wanted a chance to…apologize.” Never has the word sounded so much like a curse than when it leaves Regina’s lips. Robin smiles anyway. 

“You’re making progress, then.” 

Regina sneers. “I suppose. I’m doing it for you, you know.” She shoves at him weakly and   
Robin laughs, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Yes, I know.” 

They turn and begin to walk back to the Charming’s residence, where Roland is playing with Henry. After a moment, Robin chuckles. “What?” Regina asks, annoyed. 

“Belle said I was handsome.” 

Regina rounds on him. “You heard that?” 

“Yes,” Robin responds, pulling Regina back to him roughly. “And you’re going to have to explain the 'Beauty and the Beast’ reference to me. It sounds delightful.” 

“I’m not explaining  _anything_ to you, you wretched thief,” Regina snaps as she pulls away from him and stalks off. Robin laughs heartily and chases after her.


	42. For Our Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle sneaks into Rumple’s bed when she has a nightmare.

She stands at the threshold, wringing her hands nervously. It had been instinct to leap out of bed and rush to the nearest source of comfort, but when that comfort was otherwise known as the Dark One, did one dare risk it? Surely he would not be amused by her bursting into his room unannounced in the middle of the night, claiming a nightmare had driven her here. 

But then, had his actions of late not encouraged her to this? Had he not invited her to take tea with him in the afternoons, or join him by his spinning wheel in the evenings to read aloud while he spun? Wasn’t his hesitancy around her a sign that he was comfortable with her, and therefore alarmed at finding himself so at ease with another human? He made a living off people’s fear of him, after all; but Belle was not afraid. 

Not of him, at least. 

But the dream from which she just awoke - that was something to fear. It had been far too real, too vivid, and she needed the assurance of him near her to calm her racing heart and troubled mind. Surely he would not protest, if she sought him out to drive away her fears? She takes a deep breath and pushes his door open. He can send her back to bed, if he wishes, but at least it will erase the fear that he is gone. 

She’s never been in his room before; some places are still off limits to her. But she is no longer  _just_ the Dark One’s caretaker. At any rate, he’s never  _explicitly_ told her to stay out, so she takes the loophole and goes with it. She steps forward, bare feet silent on the unusually warm floor, and watches carefully for any signs of movement from the bed. She can barely see, but she can make out a distinct lump underneath the blankets and a wave of relief washed over her. 

She makes it to the edge of the bed, then freezes once more. She feels tears sting at her eyes, both from the memory of what she’d seen and from the fact that she suddenly feels so  _silly._ But she is here; she’s come so far all ready and it would be foolish to turn back now. Lifting the covers as carefully as possible, Belle eases herself into the bed, turning on her side to face the sleeping Dark One. 

She’d done this frequently as a child. Her nightmares would send her running to her father’s room and she would leap into his arms without hesitance. He never minded,  foregoing sleep to remind his daughter that dreams held no sway over the waking world, and that she was very brave for waking up and banishing the monsters that chased her back into the shadowy abyss from where they crawled. But tonight, no monster had chased her. No monster sent her running to the comfort of another. She had been witness to death, and there were some things even Brave Belle could not face. 

The loss of the man beside her was one of them. 

She lay as still and silent as death, breathing slowly and deeply, afraid the slightest movement will wake Rumplestiltskin and send him into a fury. This is not proper; crawling into a man’s bed - no matter what drove her there - and Belle prays desperately that he will understand. Then again, perhaps he never need know. She could rise now, slip back to her room and pretend this never happened. She is assured now. He’s alive; he is breathing and unharmed and that was all she needed to know. She could make this her secret, held close to her heart. She already held a great many secrets there: her desire to see her father, her wish that she could learn some of Rumplestiltskin’s magic (if only to know  _how_ it is done), a longing for adventure still. Her feelings for him. It’s just another secret, one she will never tell a soul, because the only soul there is to tell is the one she’s keeping it from. 

Resigned, she carefully moves, deciding it would be best to return to her room. She sits up, but freezes in terror when a hand shoots out and latches onto her wrist. 

“Sneaky, sneaky, little maid,” the voice teases venomously, “What are you doing in my bed?” 

Belle shivers, the words causing her mind to wander to all possible reasons one might venture to his bed. But he isn’t interested in those. He wants to know the truth. And she was caught, red handed. It seems she will not have to add another secret to her list. Turning, she looks down at Rumplestiltskin who was still lying on his side, his arm stretched out around her wrist in a vice grip.

“I had a nightmare,” she whispers, feeling so incredible foolish. For all her bravado, he will now see her for the silly little girl that she is. 

Rumplestiltskin sits up, but does not release her. “And you, what? Came here looking for comfort?” 

Belle looks away, cheeks burning. “Yes.” 

She expects many things: his cruel laughter, a push that would send her to the floor, bitter words telling her to go back to where she belonged. Instead, she feels him pull her closer, and he moves so that he’s sitting on his knees. He waves his other hand and the numerous candles that are scattered about the room blaze to life, and she sees that he’s staring at her in concern. 

“Nightmares are terrible things,” he says softly, his hand leaving her wrist and floating up to graze her chin, “Tell me, what horrors drove you to the bed of a monster to seek comfort?” 

Belle’s lip trembled, recalling the horrors that she had witnessed. Now that she is safe in the waking world, it doesn’t seem so ghastly, and the longer she dwells on it, the more ridiculous it becomes. But while the dream itself holds no sway here, the fear of what it entailed does. And Brave Belle is afraid of some things. 

“You were tortured,” she whispers, looking down at her lap, “By these….cloaked figures. I couldn’t see their faces, but I could see yours. And you were,” she sniffs and blinks away her tears, “You were in so much pain. And you were calling out to me. But I couldn’t save you. And then they-” 

She stops, her hand coming up to cover her mouth in an effort to muffle her sobs. “It’s so silly because it wasn’t real, but when I woke I was so afraid that you were hurt and I just-” 

She stops when she feels Rumplestiltskin wiping at her tears with his scaled fingers. The blackened tips of his long nails brush against her cheek, causing her to shiver. It’s a pleasant sensation, she realizes numbly. A moment later, she is being pulled into the Dark One’s arms and he holds her close to him, running his hands over her back and resting his chin on her head. 

“I’m all right, dear,” he coos gently. “It’s going to take much more than some faceless figures to best me. Surely you know I’m more powerful than that?” 

She nods against his chest and sniffles. “I do. I know I’m silly, but I just had to be sure you were all right.” 

He smiles against her. “Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” He pushes her away gently, only far enough so he can look at her properly. “What’s say we go back to sleep, hmm?” 

Belle nods and turns to leave. It’s his way of getting rid of her without being cruel, she knows, but there’s still something inside that aches. She wants him to ask her to stay. There’s no real reason for it. She’s fine; he’s fine. And yet the thought of staying the night with him brings her more warmth than her numerous woolen blankets. 

She feels him tug on her and she glances back. He pushes the sheets away and nods toward the bed. “Tell you what,” he says with a wicked grin, “Why don’t you stay here for the night? Just in case anyone  _does_ come after me.” 

Belle wastes no time crawling back in the bed and Rumplestiltskin pulls her to him. She’s wrapped up in his arms in an instant and despite the fact that this should be awkward for them, it’s not. “I don’t think I’d actually be of much use,” she teases. 

Rumplestiltskin uses his magic to snuff the candles. “You’ll keep the nightmares away,” he says with a sleepy sigh, and it dawns on Belle that he’s probably had his fair share of nightmares as well. Images of the room full of child’s clothing and toys flashes through her mind and she knows instantly where his dreams take him. 

“I will,” she swears, and she means it. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

When they wake the next morning, Belle can’t help but smile. Rumple is on his back, his arm curled around her shoulders, keeping her pinned to his side. He looks down at her when she stirs and lifts his other hand to brush her hair from her eyes. “Sleep well?” He asks. 

Belle nods against him. “Very well.” 

Rumple hums in acknowledgement, then tentatively begins to brush his fingers down her arm. “Perhaps,” he begins slowly, “For the sake of our health, we should do this more often.” He glances down at her curiously, “I can’t have my caretaker slacking because she can’t sleep for nightmares.” 

Part of her wants to point out that her nightmares aren’t frequent. She only has them on occasion, and this wasn’t the first nightmare she’s had since coming here. But she reflects back on the night before when he all but admitted that he suffers nightmares as well. Perhaps this is more for his sake than hers, but Belle doesn’t mind. If sleeping by the Dark One’s side will bring him a few hours of peace, she can’t think of anything she’d rather do. It’s more than she’d bargained for when she’d crept in here last night, but it’s certainly worth it. And if she were honest with herself, she quite relishes the thought of being wrapped up in his embrace every night. 

“I agree,” she says as she carefully untangles herself from him and sits up. “It won’t do for me to be less efficient than I all ready am.” 

“Indeed it won’t,” he agrees, and they smile in understanding. They don’t necessarily  _need_ each other in order to sleep. Belle can handle her nightmares when they come, and Rumple has had so many so often they hardly hold the same weight they once did. Not that he will admit to it. No, they won’t share a bed because they need it for their health, no matter what he says. They’ll share a bed because deep down, they both  _want_ to. 


	43. Rant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle figures out how to shut Rumple up.

Belle sat cross-legged on top of the dining table, elbow resting on her knee and head in her hand. With her right hand, she held a glass figurine, pretty and elegant. It shimmered in the light let in from the open curtains behind them, and Belle glanced at it with a look of appreciation. 

Then Rumple stormed by, snatched it out of her hand, and hurled it against the wall. 

Rolling her eyes, Belle reached blindly behind her and grabbed another precious breakable. She extended her arm again and a few moments later, Rumple stomped by again, grabbing the knick knack from her and throwing it hard. It shattered with a satisfying sound and Rumple moved on, continuing his angry pacing. 

“If she thinks she’ll get away with this, she has another thing coming!” He seethed as he stormed by Belle again, grabbing the next item she held out for his destruction.  

“After everything I’ve done; after all the effort I put in, and  _this_ is the thanks I get?” He stormed by, grabbed the plate in Belle’s hand, and threw it with a angry grunt. “I will make her pay for this!” He growled as he moved to the other end of the table, then turned and began to pace back. Belle watched, slightly amused and very bored. He’d been at this for almost an hour, and despite his constant ranting, she’d yet to get a single bit of information out of him. 

“It’s an outrage,” she agreed dryly as he whirled past, yanking a small bust from her hands. 

“You’re damn right it’s an outrage!” He yelled, “I am the bloody Dark One! You would think that my title alone would demand some respect, but  _no!_ ” Another trinket went hurling through the air, “No, of course not!”

“You’re almost out of things to throw,” Belle murmured when he walked past again. He didn’t pause, just simply waved his hand and all the things that lay shattered on the floor suddenly reappeared behind Belle, all in perfect condition. Belle rolled her eyes and grabbed for a vase which she’d given him much earlier. It was a hideous thing, and Belle felt almost as satisfied as Rumple surely did when it had shattered into a thousand pieces. 

He grabbed it and smashed it hard on the ground, his anger seeming to build instead of wane from this exercise. She was going to have to do something soon, because this was getting ridiculous. He continued to rant and rave, waving his arms wildly about him as he cursed and complained, and despite how utterly hilarious the whole situation was, Belle needed him to calm down. This wasn’t healthy, and he needed a new avenue to vent his frustrations. 

She grinned. 

He stalked past again, his voice getting louder and more shrill, “And to think, that I was actually going to let her have the better end of the bargain!” He cried, “My deals are  _always_ fair to both parties, but the  _one_ time I decide to be nice, it completely backfires and I end up looking like an utter fool! It’s an absolute outrage and I will not stand for-” 

He was cut off by Belle grabbing his hand and tugging him to the table. She lifted her other hand to cradle the back of his neck, and pressed her lips solidly against his. 

He stiffened, every muscle in his body going absolutely rigid, and for a moment Belle wondered if he might burst in both anger over the failed deal and her interrupting him. Rumplestiltskin did  _not_ like to be interrupted. But then, she felt his hands hesitantly grip her sides, and his mouth moved ever so slightly against hers. She smiled against him, and pressed a little harder, letting her lips slowly caress his as she let her hand play with his hair. 

Rumplestiltskin pulled her closer to the edge of the table, and wrapped one arm around her waist, gripping her tightly as he deepened the kiss between them. Belle sighed happily, then carefully moved back so she could see him. He looked breathless, and it amazed Belle that he could scream and pace for an hour straight and not look a bit phased, but one brief kiss let him undone. 

He blinked and met her eyes with uncertainty. “What…was that…for?” 

Belle giggled, and lifted her free hand to touch his cheek. “You were ranting.” 

“Yes…” 

“Now you’re not.” 

It seemed to take him a moment to realize that he was not, in fact, ranting and raving and destroying his property in a fit of rage anymore. 

“No,” he said, his voice quiet and gentle. Suddenly a failed deal was the last thing on his mind, “I’m not.” 

He leaned forward and kissed her again. 


	44. Elsewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Rumple reunites with Belle in the most unexpected place.

“You really should come, Belle. I think it will be good for you.” 

Belle sighed and looked at Snow wearily. She’d been living with the Charming’s for a few months now, and though she was grateful for their hospitality and friendship, she wished Snow could understand her disinterest in something as jovial as a wedding. She was suffering, both from a cracked rib from an encounter with a ruffian on the path and a broken heart. She was happy for the peasant-turned-princess, but she had little interest in the festivities.

“I’m still not feeling well,” Belle said, and it wasn’t a complete lie. Snow frowned, her brow creasing in worry for her new friend. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked in that ever-present motherly way that made Belle want to open up completely. But no. Not even the gentle and understanding Snow White would understand Belle’s feelings. She was in love with the Dark One. That was something she would have to bear alone, it seemed. 

“No, I’m fine,” Belle said nonchalantly. Snow raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly not believing her.  

“Well, whatever the problem is,” Snow said, standing and laying a tender hand on Belle’s shoulder, “I’m sure it’s nothing a good party can’t help. Besides, we might find someone for you.” She winked and turned to walk away. 

Rolling her eyes, Belle spoke, “I don’t have anything to wear, at any rate.” 

Snow was at her side, pulling Belle out of her chair in an instant. “I’ve got  _just_ the thing!” She declared as she dragged Belle behind her. 

~000~

 

Belle had to admit Snow was right. The wedding had been beautiful, and it had been refreshing to take her mind off her own sorrow and bask in the happiness of another. Now she stood in the grand ballroom, watching as Snow and Charming danced together. She smiled, and reached down to fluff her skirts. The dress Snow had given her was lovely. Even when she’d been a Lady in her father’s lands, she’d never had a dress as fine as this. It was a fair and pale blue, that seemed to shimmer with every movement Belle made. 

She walked among the people, enjoying the chance to be alone. Despite being in grand company, there was no one she knew save for Snow and David, and now that they were occupied, she could enjoy a moment’s peace. She observed the lovely bride, dancing merrily with her husband, and Belle felt a pang of sorrow as she watched Ella’s eyes light up with glee as her husband spun her around in his arms. She would never have that, she realized. Her chance with Rumplestiltskin was gone, and she’d already made a solemn vow never to marry unless it was to her True Love. 

She would become an old maid, in the end. 

She watched on, trying not to wallow in her own self-pity; there were far worse fates, she supposed. At least she’d made a couple friends out of the ordeal. As pushy as Snow could be at times, Belle knew she was only trying to help. It was a delight, to have someone who cared so much, and Belle silently thanked the gods that Snow had been placed in her life. 

A small commotion brought Belle out of her thoughts, and she glanced over to see that Ella was no longer dancing with her prince, but with- 

“Rumple…” 

His gaze snapped over to her, and Belle realized she’d spoken the name aloud. She watched as his face grew pale - a feat she hadn’t thought possible - and his eyes widened. His grip on Ella dropped, and the terrified bride took the opportunity to flee into her husband’s arms. Belle watched, suddenly nervous and embarrassed, as Rumple’s, and subsequently everyone’s, gaze fell to her. She stood frozen, wondering why he was looking at her with such despair and disbelief, and waited as he slowly stepped toward her. The moments ticked by, and it seemed as if there was some magic stretching the room wider and wider, for it took him far too long to reach her. But then he did. 

He stared at her, brows furrowed together as if he were trying to determine if she were real. Belle swallowed heavily, and offered him a small smile. “Hello, Rumplestiltskin.” 

He blinked, her voice seeming to bring him out of his daze. Belle could see out of the corner of her eye that Snow and Charming were making their way to them. Her attention was brought back to the man before her when he reached his hand out and ever so gently touched her cheek. She gasped at the sensation and he jerked his hand back as if he’d been burned. 

“You’re alive.” 

Belle blinked at him in confusion. “Of course I’m alive.” 

His hands came up and cupped her face, turning her head from side to side, studying her. “How?” 

“How am I alive?” 

He continued to stare, and Belle began to feel uncomfortable. This was not how she’d envisioned their reunion, when she dared allow herself to think of it. 

“You were dead. She said you were-” 

He broke off and pulled her to him, crushing her in a tight embrace. Belle didn’t move to embrace him, too confused to do anything but let him hold her. It was pleasant, but her mind was focused on other things. She lifted her hands and pushed him back, ignoring the slight gasps of people around her. 

“Who said I was dead?” 

He snarled, “Regina.” 

Snow appeared at Belle’s side, glaring at Rumplestiltskin in annoyance, then wrapped her arm around Belle’s shoulders. “You okay?” She asked and Belle nodded. 

“Yes,” she said softly, “Rumplestiltskin and I were just…catching up.” 

She risked a glance at Rumple’s face, and felt a pang of guilt to see how hurt he looked. Snow eyed them both curiously. 

“You know each other?” After a moment, Snow’s eyes widened. “Oh, no…. Belle-” 

“She was my caretaker, once,” Rumplestiltskin said sharply. “And I was going to ask her to dance.” 

Belle’s eyes snapped up sharply to meet his. The urge to say no was on the tip of her tongue, but she saw the pleading in his eyes and found herself unable to refuse. She offered him her hand and Rumplestiltskin turned to face the people. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He asked, “Let’s dance.” 

People scattered onto the floor, and the band picked up a waltz. Rumple lead Belle onto the floor and began to spin her about the room. 

“Is that all I am to you?” She hissed suddenly, unable to stand it anymore. “You’re caretaker?” 

  
Rumplestiltskin pulled her tighter to him. “Please,” he whispered, “You know you’re more than that.” 

He twirled Belle away from him, then pulled her back. “Do I?” She asked, tears starting to sting her eyes. “The last thing I recall is you throwing me out because I dared to love you.” 

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I threw you out because I was a fool,” he said, “Then I was told you were tortured…you killed yourself.” 

Belle scoffed, “Well clearly this  _Regina_ has something against you because I was never tortured. I was attacked, yes, but-” 

“Attacked?” Rumplestiltskin growled, “When? Why?” 

Belle shrugged they continued to dance, “He was a ruffian. I just happened to be on the road. David saved me and brought me back to his home. That’s how I met Snow.” 

Rumple looked at her with such pain, and Belle felt the anger and hurt she’d harbored for so long start to fade. “I’m so sorry, Belle.” 

“You threw me out.” A tear slipped down her cheek.  “You told me your power meant more to you than I did.” 

He stopped dancing and reached up to wipe her tear away. “No,” he said, “I lied.” 

Belle sighed. “Do you love me or not? What am I to you?"  

"My True Love,” Rumple said urgently, “You’re my True Love, and if you’ll have me I’ll love you as I always should have. I won’t make the same mistake again.” He clutched her to him again, ignoring the stares of those around them, and this time Belle hugged him in return. After a moment she pulled away, and turned her head. Raising an eyebrow, Rumple asked, “What are you doing?” 

“Looking for Snow,” Belle said absently, as she found her friend and waved her closer. “I’m just letting her know that I won’t be going back with her.” She turned and gave Rumple a soft smile, “I’m needed elsewhere." 


	45. Positively Delightful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple helps Belle bake.

Belle glared at the cake sitting before her. It was lumpy, flat, and certainly not edible. She propped her head in her hand, staring at the misshapen mess angrily, silently willing it to change form and not look like a complete disaster.

Unfortunately, Belle could not do magic, and so the cake remained as it was.

Belle sighed and dropped her head onto the flour covered table. She’d wanted to treat Rumplestiltskin with a cake as a thank you for the library he’d given her, but it seemed she would have to postpone her act of gratitude another day. She stood, deciding to dispose of the embarrassing reminder that she was not quite cut out for this job, and picked up the offending should-be dessert.

“What on earth is  _that_?”

Belle looked up guiltily as Rumplestiltskin sauntered into the kitchen, looking at her with a mixture of interest and amusement. She vaguely realized she was covered in flour and batter, and blushed furiously.

“It’s a cake,” she said softly, “Well, it’s supposed to be a cake.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to eat that,” he said, his face scrunching up in distaste. Belle shook her head, turning away so he would not see the tears that had begun welling in her eyes. It was silly to be so upset over such a small thing, but she’d wanted so much to do something for him. And she couldn’t.

She kept her back turned as she dumped the cake out of the pan. She was determined to ignore him until he left, which would hopefully be soon. To her dismay, however, he approached, and came to stand beside her, regarding her with worry.

“Why tears, my dear?” He asked as he reached out with one scaled finger to catch the droplet that was sliding down her cheek. Belle looked down and shrugged.

“It was supposed to be for you,” she whispered, feeling embarrassed, “I wanted to thank you for the library, and I thought a cake would be a nice, simple gesture. But it seems I can’t even do that.”

Rumple’s mouth curved in a frown as he watched his caretaker cry. “You don’t have to make me anything,” he said gently. Belle nodded.

“I know. I wanted to. But I was never taught to cook; we had maids and servants my entire life. I thought following a recipe would be simple.” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, “I was wrong.”

There was a few moments of silence, then Rumplestiltskin flicked his wrist, drawing a handkerchief out of thin air. He dabbed at Belle’s eyes and forehead, trying to remove some of the residue from her previous attempt at baking and smiled hesitantly at her. “Why don’t we bake one together?” He offered tentatively.

She blinked up at him. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” Rumplestiltskin nodded, “What do you say?”

Belle smiled. “Let’s get started.”

~000~

The end result was a beautiful cake that tasted as delicious as it appeared. Belle smiled as she handed Rumple a plate with a large slice. He cut a piece off with his fork, then after staring at it a moment, held it out to Belle. She blinked, unsure for a moment, then leaned forward and took the proffered bite. Her eyes lit up and sighed in happiness.

“It’s good!” She declared, covering her mouth with her hand. She cut a piece with her own fork and held it out for Rumple. “Try it!”

He took the bite, his eyes catching hers as he did so, and Belle felt her cheeks redden and warm. He chewed for a moment, then smirked. “Positively delightful.”

Belle had the distinct feeling he wasn’t referring to just the cake. She swallowed nervously and glanced at him again. “Thank you for helping me.”

“It was my pleasure,” Rumplestiltksin responded, “If you ever want to try anything else, let me know. We can do it together.”

He grabbed his plate, turned and left the kitchen, leaving Belle to contemplate all the positively delightful things they could do together. None of them involved baking. 


	46. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Floof family camping trip.

“I still don’t understand how you talked me into this,” Rumplestiltskin griped as he walked unsteadily down the dirt trail. He grimaced as he noticed the end of his cane was covered in dirt and mud, and sighed. This was  _not_ the weekend he’d had planned. 

Henry rushed by him, backpack jostling as he moved. “Come on, Grandpa!” He called, “It’s just a little further!” 

Biting back a sigh, Rumple continued on, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the beads of sweat that were forming on his brow. 

“You know, if you’d worn something other than a suit, you might not be so hot,” Neal said as he sidled up to his father. Rumple shot him a glare and huffed. 

“I’ve spent the past twenty-eight years wearing this,” he said, “I’m not about to start wearing…whatever it is you’re wearing.” 

Neal glanced down at his shorts and t-shirt. “It’s casual, Papa,” he responded dryly, “Maybe you should try it sometime.” 

Rumple made a face at his son. “Maybe you should pick a better vacation spot.” 

Neal held his hands up in defense. “Don’t look at me. This was Henry’s idea.” 

“Of course it was,” Rumple sighed. It didn’t matter who’s idea it was. He would have joined them regardless. 

They made it to the camping area, and Rumple couldn’t have been happier. He sat down somewhat ungracefully on a bench while he watched as Henry, Emma, and Neal set up the tents. Belle approached him, carrying a backpack and duffel bag and Rumple moved over so she could join him. She deposited the bags on the ground and opted to take a seat on his good leg. His arms wound around her instantly and Belle sighed in contentment. “This is going to be fun,” she said softly, leaning against Rumple as she watched her stepson and his family arguing over how to pitch the tent. 

“I’m sure it will be,” Rumple grumbled. Belle laughed. 

“Don’t be so grumpy,” she chided, “It’s not like Henry wanted to go rock climbing.” 

Rumplestiltskin shuddered. “Don’t give the boy any ideas.” 

They watched as finally the tents were set up. The group gathered around the bench and Belle began to pull out food they’d ordered from Granny’s and began to pass the boxes around. Once everyone had something to eat, they began to talk about what they would do for the rest of the evening. Emma wanted to go swimming in the lake, as did Belle. Henry wanted to make smores and tell ghost stories. Neal glanced up at his father. “What do you wanna do?” 

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “I’m at the boy’s disposal.” 

Henry’s eyes lit up as he began to beg for stories by the fire. With a quick nod, Rumple waved his hand and created a small fire in the middle of their circle. They began toasting marshmallows, and Rumple spun wild stories, entertaining and scaring them all. When it grew late and the fire finally died, Neal stood and lifted Henry effortlessly, carrying the sleeping boy to his tent. Emma followed, turning back to nod at Rumple in thanks. 

Belle stood and offered Rumple her hand. He took it, gripping his cane in the other as they walked arm in arm to the tent they would share. 

“This wasn’t so bad, was it?” She asked as she slipped inside. Rumple smiled as he followed her. Camping wasn’t really his thing, but spending time with his family definitely was. 


	47. Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle loses her voice.

Belle woke to a sore throat. She swallowed thickly, wincing as her throat protested to the act. She crawled out of bed, deciding some tea would be beneficial before she began her chores. 

By the end of the day, Belle’s voice was gone. She wished she could ask Rumplestiltskin for help, but he’d been out on a deal the past two days, and after the last incident, Belle refused to go looking for medicine in his workroom. She would suffer in literal silence until the Dark One returned, then perhaps she could get some relief. 

He returned late that evening, surprised to find Belle sitting by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Normally she was in bed by this time, but Rumple certainly was not going to complain that his sweet little maid had waited up for him. Ever since she’d tumbled into his arms, things had been different between them, and though it was a bit awkward, there was a pleasantness in seeing her smiles and feeling her fingers brush against him whenever she passed by. 

He appraoched her, not surprised to find her nose buried in a book. He slipped behind her and grabbed her shoulders, causing her to jump in fright. He took delight in startling her, her squeals adorable. He frowned however, when she hardly made a sound. He stepped round to face her, ignoring when she reached out to slap him for scaring her.

“Are you all right, dear?” He asked, his brow furrowed in concern. She shook her head and pointed to her throat. Opening her mouth, she let out a slight squeak, and Rumple realized she’d lost her voice. 

“What on earth did you get into this time?” He asked with a sigh as he sat down in front of her. Belle shook her head furiously, brown curls bouncing around her shoulders. 

 _I didn’t,_ she mouthed.  _Sick._

 _“_ Ah,” Rumple said matter of fact. He was immune to sickness, thanks to the curse, and had forgotten that others were susceptible to illness. Knowing she was all right, and easily fixable, Rumplestiltskin smirked. “I have to admit, the silence is rather nice,” he said as he reclined he let his back rest against the stones of the hearth. “After a long, tiring day of deal making, it’s quite pleasant to come home to complete silence. In fact, I think I prefer it this way.” 

He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Belle glared at him. She grabbed her book and whacked him with it, causing Rumplestiltskin to laugh. 

“You mean little maid!” He cried out, placing his hand over his heart in feign hurt, “How dare you strike your master! I really  _should_ leave you like this.” 

Belle glared again and lifted the book once more. Rumple caught her wrist and tugged her closer, so that she was nose to nose with him. “Say ‘please’, and I’ll fix you,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. Belle gave him a dry look. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t say please.” 

 _Please. Jerk._

Rumple held his hand to his ear. “What was that, dear? I couldn’t quite hear you-” 

Belle leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek in a quick kiss. Rumple shot back and stared at her with confusion. She blinked innocently at him, and the pout she wore on her lips was enough to convince Rumple to do anything she wanted. He lifted his hand to her throat hesitantly and let magic course through him. After a moment, Belle took a deep breath and said, “Thank you.” 

Her voice was as lovely as ever, Rumplestiltskin thought, his hand lingering on her throat. He felt her swallow, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. She was watching him curiously, and something in him longed for her to kiss him again. That thought caught him off guard, and he removed his hand from her throat, clearing his own nervously. 

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. 

She excused herself and went to bed not long after, leaving Rumplestiltskin to wonder just what he’d gotten himself into. 


	48. Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle makes a bet with Rumple that he can’t go an entire day without using any magic at all.

She said nothing when he used magic to change his wardrobe in front of her. Nor when he made things that were in other rooms appear right in front of him. She grew slightly annoyed when he summoned the tea tray, claiming she didn’t need to walk all the way to the kitchens to fetch it. She still said nothing when he used magic to prepare and stir his tea, nor when he levitated the cup in the air while his hands were busy with other things. 

But when he used magic to summon a book that wasn’t even a room’s length away from him is when she spoke up. 

“You are entirely too dependent on your magic,” she said at last, causing Rumple to look up. 

“I am not,” he said indignantly.  

Belle gave him a dry look and began to count off all the ways he’d used magic. “And that’s just this morning,” she finished. 

Shrugging, Rumplestiltskin glared at her. “So?” 

“So, I bet you can’t go the rest of the day without using magic at all.” 

He laughed his impish laugh and stepped forward, “I bet I can. What shall the stakes be, then?” 

“If you win, I’ll never say a word about you using magic again.” 

“You’re on,” he said as he turned away from her. 

“Wait!” Belle called, out, “What do I get if I win?” 

Rumplestiltskin smirked, “You won’t win, so it hardly matters. But should you suceed, you can have anything you desire,” he said, giggling mischievously. With the final word in, he disappeared in a flash of purple smoke, only to reappear a moment later, scowling. “That doesn’t count.” 

Belle giggled. “Of course not.” 

He glared at her once more and turned, storming off to his work room. 

~000~

He didn’t want to admit it, but Belle was right. He couldn’t work because all his potions used magic. He couldn’t go on a deal because that required travel by magic. And even then, he caught himself using magic for the most mundane things. He cursed aloud when he realized he used magic  _again_  and sighed. For someone who constantly cautioned others about the dangers and price of magic, he certainly had no qualms about using it himself. 

He growled in frustration when he realized he’d used magic to summon something from across the room. The only consolation was that Belle was not present to see his almost constant mistakes. Feeling frustrated and restless ,Rumple decided to spend the rest of the day doing something extremely simple. Figuring he couldn’t do anything wrong by reading, he decided that would be how he spent his day. Books were harmless. He couldn’t get in trouble if he were reading. He stretched out his hand, realizing far too late that he’d used magic to summon the book to him. 

He cursed again, and stormed out of the room. It was only mid afternoon but it was becoming increasingly clear that he was not cut out for life without magic.

He stormed into the library where Belle sat, engrossed in a book. He stopped in front of her, glaring and his arms crossed and waited for her to notice him. When she did look up, it was with a look of pure smugness. “Yes?” She asked. 

“You’re right,” he snarled, “I can’t do it. You win.” 

Belle closed her book and stood, a large smile on her face. “You used magic?” 

“Of course I did,” he snapped, “Don’t rub it in. Just tell me what you want.” 

Belle pursed her lips while she thought. Then she met Rumple’s eyes and smiled. “I want you to fix the most exquisite, romantic dinner imaginable,” She said and Rumple sighed in relief. That wasn’t so bad, he thought to himself. Then Belle’s smile widened, “And then I want you to join me.” 

She grabbed her book and brushed past him toward the staircase.When she reached the edge she turned to regard him again. “Oh, and be sure to wear your red vest with the high collar,” she said matter of fact, “It’s my favorite.” Then she was gone, leaving Rumple standing frozen in the middle of the library, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Belle’s prize was a dinner - a  _romantic_ dinner - with him. 


	49. Nice to Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t have to say anything back,” she said gently, “But I thought it might be nice for you to hear.“

“You’ve been in a bad mood all day. Want to talk about it?” Rumple looked up as Belle sat down beside him. He’d been brooding and glum all day, and Belle was worried about him. 

Rumple shook his head. “Not particularly.” 

Frowning, Belle reached forward and stroked his arm. “Well, why don’t we play a game instead?” 

He turned his head to regard her curiously. “A game?” 

Nodding, Belle moved, tucking her legs underneath her and leaning against the back of the seat, “Yeah. When I was younger and in a bad mood, my governess would play a game with me where we took turns saying only nice things. By the end of it, I always felt better.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Rumple said, slouching down in the seat and crossing his arms over his chest like an indignant child. 

Rolling her eyes, Belle was not going to let his mood stop her. “I’ll start,” she said, ignoring the glare he gave her. “I think this castle is lovely.” 

Rumple grunted, but otherwise remained silent. Belle waited patiently, and after several long minutes, Rumplestiltskin sighed wearily. “Your company is….pleasant.” 

Smiling, Belle moved closer to him. “So is yours.” 

He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at her again, surprised to see how close she was. He pulled himself to sit up straight and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Your skills at making tea are adequate.” 

“Your magic is quite impressive.” 

He paused for a while, then finally spoke, shyly, “You look nice in blue.” 

Belle felt her cheeks redden and cleared her throat nervously. “You look good in leather.” 

His eyes widened, but he did not look at her. He swallowed thickly, and twisted his fingers together nervously. “I enjoy it when you read aloud.” 

“I think you’re handsome.” 

He turned sharply to look at her, taken aback by her confession. She offered him a half smile, then said, “Your turn.” 

Rumple watched her for a moment longer, then let his eyes drift elsewhere. He suddenly felt warm and strange, and this game was getting far to serious. And yet he had no desire to stop. She was right; it was making him feel better. 

“I admire your courage,” he said at length. Belle sighed softly. 

“I really like your laugh,” she said and he treated her to the sound. When he finished and she ceased her giggling, he admitted, “It’s nice to come home to someone who doesn’t see me as a monster,"  

"You’re not a monster,” she said instantly, “And besides, I think you’re extremely sweet…when you want to be.” She giggled and Rumple couldn’t help but reach out and pat her hand. 

“Only for you, dear.” 

She giggled and nudged his palm with her finger, signaling it was his turn. He took a moment, then squeezed her hand gently and said, “You’re beautiful.” 

Belle let out a sharp breath and asked softly, “Really?” 

Rumplestiltskin nodded, and Belle reached out and hugged him. She lingered there for a moment, then Rumple lowered his legs and pulled her closer to him, draping his arm over her shoulders as she curled into his side. 

“I’m glad I came here,” she sighed happily as she settled in his arms. He hummed and tentatively pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

“I’m glad our deal is forever.” 

“I’m falling in love with you.” 

His whole body tensed and he glanced down, meeting her eyes as she looked up at him. “I…” She lifted her finger to his lips. 

“You don’t have to say anything back,” she said gently, “But I thought it might be nice for you to hear.” 

She moved so she was curled back against him, and took solace in the rapid beating of his heart. After a few minutes, she was certain he wasn’t going to say anything. But they were together at least and Belle took comfort in the fact that he was holding her. A moment later he spoke, and her heart filled with joy. 

“It was nice to hear.” He pressed another soft kiss to her head and added, “And…I’m in love with you, too." 


	50. Chores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple and Belle switch roles for the day.

The first time he found her sitting in her library reading, he said nothing. When he found her two hours later taking her afternoon tea (without him!) he growled and told her to get back to work. The third time he found her, she was admiring one of his prizes from a deal. The duster lay forgotten on the table behind her, and it was clear to Rumplestiltskin, who had a keen eye for the state in which his castle was in, that Belle had not cleaned a single thing all day. 

“You know,” he said idly, causing Belle to put down the trinket none too gently, “When I brought you here, I was under the impression that you would hold up your end of the bargain. Instead, you’ve yet to clean a single thing all day.” 

“I’ve swept!” Belle protested, crossing her arms in front of her. Rumple scoffed and stepped forward. 

“Yes, and that’s all. I do believe I could accomplish more than you, lousy maid that you are.” 

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then why don’t you?” Belle huffed. “Do everything you’ve assigned for me to do, and if you can do it all in one day, then I promise I’ll do my chores without getting distracted.” 

Rumple glared at her for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Deal.” 

~000~

Belle lounged in her library, idly flipping through an atlas. She heard a clash followed by a curse, and bit back a giggle. Putting the book down, she ventured down to the great hall where Rumplestiltskin was busy dusting his collection of trinkets. He looked exhausted and his clothes were wrinkled and dirty. Belle smirked at the sight and leaned against the door frame. “So, what all have you finished?” She asked. 

Rumple turned back to glare at her, then turned around to finish dusting, never saying a word. Belle sauntered forward and stood directly behind him. “Don’t forget about my library,” she said teasingly, “I don’t want to see a single speck of dust on my books.” 

Rumple whirled around and stared down at his petite maid, who was smirking smugly. His eyes narrowed, and Belle’s lips widened into an amused grin. “Pesky little maid,” he growled, shoving by her to finish his work. 

“Oh, and don’t forget, we take tea in an hour!” 

She heard another crash and another mumbled curse and bent over laughing. When she recovered, she followed Rumple into the next room and watched while he swept, mopped, and dusted. She trailed behind him for the next several rooms, not saying a word but feeling a selfish and prideful victory. Perhaps this would teach the Dark One not to expect utter perfection out of her, especially when he demanded something that was - without magic - impossible. 

When he was finished and serving them their afternoon tea, Belle giggled and leaned forward, close to Rumple. “Not as easy as you thought, hmm?” 

He said nothing, instead taking a loud, slurping sip of tea. 

Belle leaned back in her chair, relaxed. “I take breaks because it’s a lot of work,” she said. “And I’m fascinated with everything you have. Besides, I’m going to be here forever. If I clean everything in one day, I’ll have nothing to do the next day.” 

“Clean again.” 

Belle raised an eyebrow, and asked dryly, “Really?” 

Sighing, Rumple conceded, “Perhaps it is a bit much to expect of you.” 

Beaming, Belle hopped out of her seat and hugged him. His whole body tensed at the contact, but Belle ignored that and squeezed him happily, “Thank you!” 

“Just don’t let me catch you slacking on the days you’re supposed to be working.” 

Belle made an ‘X’ over her heart with her finger. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” She turned and skipped out of the room. 

One week later, when Rumplestiltskin caught her sitting on the table admiring one of his newest acquisitions when she was supposed to be reorganizing his potions, he said nothing about it. Instead, he strode up to her and asked if she’d like to take tea with him while he told her the tale of how he’d acquired the golden ornate goblet. She happily agreed. 


	51. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While searching for something of his, Rumple comes across Belle’s diary.

“I could have sworn I left it here,” Rumple murmured to himself as he searched throughout his workroom. The glass orb wasn’t particularly rare or incredibly useful, but he liked using it occasionally to check in on certain nobles, to ensure everything was still working in his favor. But now he couldn’t find it, and he was  _certain_  he’d left it on his desk.

Shrugging, Rumplestiltskin decided to check elsewhere. He ventured through the rooms he frequented: his bedroom, the great hall, but still the glass orb was nowhere to be found. He decided to try the library, which he’d been spending quite a bit of time in lately, and walked up the winding staircase. 

He was surprised to find that Belle was missing. He’d given her more freedom of late, and thanks to the pulled back curtains, he could tell it was a lovely day outside. She was probably out in the gardens. He could find out for certain if he ever found the damn orb. 

He rummaged through the library, digging through the piles of books Belle had scattered everywhere. He glanced over at the settee and approached it, but once again there was nothing. He sighed and plopped down on the seat, resting his head in his hands, trying to think of where it could possibly be. He moved his hands, then frowned as he noticed a book lying carelessly on the floor. He didn’t recognize it at all, and picked it up. Belle wasn’t usually so careless with her books; he wondered why this one had been shoved halfway under the settee. 

Wondering if it were some sort of erotic tale she was trying to hide from him, Rumple flipped the book open to the place where a ribbon-turned-bookmark was dangling. His eyes scanned over the words, widening when he realized that this was not just a book. It was Belle’s diary. 

 _Oh gods, oh gods! Rumple is going to be so angry with me if he finds out I broke that orb!_

Rumplestiltskin frowned. So  _that_ was why he could find neither his pretty little maid nor his orb. Wondering what happened, and hoping she would tell, he kept reading. 

 _I read about the orb in one of Rumple’s books and I thought it might be nice to see my father again. Even if from a distance, it would bring me such peace to know he is well. But I was startled and dropped it. I have to try to fix it, but I have no magic! What am I going to do? I don’t want Rumple to be angry with me. We’ve come so far and get on so well; I do not want him to hate me for this. I do not think my heart could bear his contempt._

Puzzled, Rumple flipped back several pages. A small part of him knew this was wrong, but the girl had stolen his orb, and broken it apparently, and he considered this only fair. And at any rate, he couldn’t help but wonder what she thought of him when she wasn’t fretting over his reactions to her clumsiness. 

 _He gave me a library,_  an earlier page read. 

 _I thought he was serious when he made that comment about my reading too many books, but he’s given me a library! I can hardly contain my excitement! He really isn’t what I thought he was. I mean, he_ did  _lock me in a dungeon my first week here, but even then he was….I can’t quite put my finger on it. He seemed nervous. Like he didn’t know what to do with me._

 _It’s almost flattering, really, to think I could be the one to confound the all powerful Dark One. But, I won’t dwell on that. Instead, I’m going to go ‘dust’ my library. Apparently he thinks I don’t know an act of kindness when I see one. Poor dear. I’ll have to think of a way to repay him, without it being obvious that I’m doing so. I wonder if he likes cake?_

Rumple couldn’t help but smile at her words. She’d seen right through him, and though he knew he should be alarmed by that, he was more impressed with just how clever his Belle was. He admired her for so many things, above all her mind, and it was a pleasure to be able to actually understand her thoughts. 

He flipped a few more pages, stopping when his name caught his attention again. 

 _I don’t understand why Rumplestiltskin insists on drinking out of that cup I chipped._ Ah, so she’d noticed. She never said anything about it, but Rumple had always wondered if she’d wondered why. Apparently she had. 

 _It’s sweet, actually. Though a bit strange. Why would he drink out of the cup I chipped if it didn’t mean something to him? Unless….Maybe he’s mocking me. Maybe it’s a constant reminder that I messed up._ Rumple frowned. How could she think that about him! 

 _But the more I think about it, the more I can’t believe that’s true. I’ve messed up_ plenty  _since I’ve been here, and other than his occasional teasing, he’s never been cruel. I think he’s fond of it. And maybe, dare I hope, of me?_

She was hopeful that he might be fond of her? Oh, if only she knew! He’d been fighting it since that day in the woods, but Rumplestiltskin was all too aware of his feelings for this girl. And it was a great deal more than fond. 

He flipped again, his curiosity growing by the moment, to another page. 

 _The most amazing thing happened today,_  the account read. 

 _I was opening the curtains, and, though I’m not entirely certain what happened, I fell. And Rumple caught me! It was like something out of a romance._ Rumple’s brow raised at that. He’d only reacted naturally; he’d never thought of his actions as romantic or heroic. 

 _But it’s not just that he saved me from almost certain pain,_ she continued _, I’m forever grateful that I didn’t get hurt, but it was….the way he held me. He looked at me like I was….special. It was as if he’d noticed me for the first time, and I must admit, I’ve never been so mesmerized by him before. I’ve never really noticed before now, but his eyes are quite lovely._

Rumple sat back, holding the book out from him as if it might attack him. She thought his sweet, romantic. She liked it when he’d held her. His mind whirled, unable to process what he was learning. He suddenly felt ashamed for prying into her personal thoughts, but he flipped a few more pages, unable to stop reading about her feelings for him. It was addictive, and he needed more. 

 _I am afraid._ Rumple blinked. He hadn’t expected that. 

 _When Rumple sent me to town, I…I am ashamed to admit I considered not returning._ Rumple frowned. He hadn’t known that. She’d returned that day with a smile on her face and sat at his wheel, reminding him of his promise to tell her a story. And he’d told her. She’d looked at him with something he now understood was adoration, but then she’d stood and declared she was going to make them dinner. He’d merely assumed she wouldn’t come back. He’d never thought that she had actually  _considered_ it. 

 _But then I met a strange woman on the road. She was lovely, but a bit forceful. And rather fond of black, which in my opinion, made her look washed out, but I suppose I’m the last person who should be commenting on the looks of others._ Black? Lovely? Forceful? Rumple knew of only one woman who fit that description. 

 _She and I had an…awkward conversation. But, I did learn something quite interesting. Apparently any curse can be broken by True Love’s Kiss. And I’m certain that what I feel for Rumplestiltskin is love._

Rumple let out a sharp breath. She loved him?! 

 _I know he’s cursed, and I fear for him so. I’m afraid he really does think he’s a monster, but I just don’t see it. He’s not the best of men, but he is a good man. And I_ so  _longed to kiss him when I came back. But I’m afraid he doesn’t feel the same. And…how could I break his curse without first telling him my intentions? Wouldn’t it be a betrayal to do something like that without him knowing? I fear it would. And yet, I so want to kiss him. Even if it turned out that we did not have True Love, which I’m certain is the case - for how could he ever want me?_ -  _I’m not sure something like that would be….well received._

Oh, but it would, Rumplestiltskin thought to himself. He’d long entertained the idea of kissing her, but he’d kept it strictly a thought. He felt the same as her, unsure of her feelings or whether such an act would be welcomed. He ran a scaled hand through his hair and kept reading. 

 _I shouldn’t dwell on such things so much. It’s foolish, and I have other things I need to be doing. But I still can’t help but wonder…and hope that maybe someday he could come to love me as I love him. Maybe one day I’ll be brave and tell him how I feel._

 _  
_

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin whispered softly, tracing his finger over the pages, wishing more than anything that he were touching her instead of her words. He heard a sound, glancing up when he recognized it as her heels beginning to ascend the stairs. He wondered for a moment if he should disappear, but quickly changed his mind. He knew his feelings, and was now aware of hers - though by all rights he shouldn’t. But the fact remained that he _did,_ and he knew if he didn’t act now, he’d let his fear get the best of him. She’d already proven her bravery. It was time to prove his. Fueled by the knowledge of her love, he decided to let her know just how he felt. 

And if they  _did_ share True Love, he’d just find a way to block that magic from affecting him. He’d been so miserable and so unhappy for so long. It was about time something good happened to him. And Belle was most certainly  _good._

He put the book down where he’d found it and stepped forward, standing in the middle of the room. Belle jumped in surprise when she saw him, and with Rumple’s new awareness, he noticed the slight smile and flush that appeared. 

“Good afternoon, Rumple,” she said pleasantly. She waited a beat, then asked, “Did you need something?” 

“Yes,” he said, taking a step forward. “I’m looking for a glass orb. It allows one to see the person of their choosing. Do you happen to know where it is?” 

He bit back the laugh he felt at her eyes widening. She looked terrified, and she swallowed thickly. He wondered, would she lie? 

“I-I have, actually,” she said, looking down sheepishly. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Rumple took the opportunity to take her in. She was in her blue gown, hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back. He loved her hair. He’d never had the opportunity to touch it, but he’d imagined on numerous occasions how soft it must feel. Hopefully he would find out soon if his imaginings were accurate. 

“I used it,” she admitted softly. 

Rumple nodded once, motioning for her to continue. “I..may have….dropped it.” 

“You broke it,” Rumple answered for her. Belle winced and nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” Rumple said as he strutted forward, enjoying the nervous look on her face. “I suppose you’ll just have to find a way to repay me for breaking one of my valuables.” 

Belle nodded meekly and stepped closer. “I am  _so_ sorry,” she said, “I really am.” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Rumple said, reaching out to play idly with a strand of her hair. He was right. It was incredibly soft. He watched as Belle sighed at the touch, her eyes blinking up to meet his, “But I must insist you make up for it.” 

“What do you want me to do?” Belle asked, eyes widening as he stepped even closer to her. 

“Kiss me.” 

“What?” She breathed, clearly not expecting that. Rumple’s hand left her hair and trailed down her arm, settling at her side, and pulled her closer to him. 

“Kiss me,” he said again. “Please.” 

She reached up eagerly and pulled his mouth to hers. She gasped against him, and he sighed happily as he slid his lips over hers, pulling her lower lip into his mouth. She sighed at that, and pressed herself closer to him, her hands winding in his hair. He brought one hand to cup her face, then the other, using his thumbs to stroke gentle patterns along her cheeks. 

He pulled away after a moment, feeling the distinctly wretched feeling of his magic being pulled from him. He looked down at Belle who was before him, eyes still closed and breathless. Her eyes fluttered open, and her mouth twitched in a slight frown. Knowing instantly what she was thinking, he kissed her again languidly, and pulled back only enough to whisper against her lips. “It’s working,” he said, “But I’m using magic to stop the curse from breaking. It’s True Love, my dearest Belle. I love you."  

She let out a breathless laugh, then was kissing him again, hard and eager. He was doing well keeping the magic of their love at bay. Then suddenly Belle wrenched away from him, staring at him accusingly. 

"How did you know I was worried about that?” 

He froze in horror, now realizing his error. “Oh, I-” 

“You read my diary, you horrid man!” She cried, reaching out to slap his arm, “I can’t believe you!” 

“Well, you broke my orb!” He declared, slinging his arm out for emphasis. 

“But you  _read_ my  _diary,”_  she said again, with a frown. Rumple sighed and stepped closer to her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“And it was by mistake…at first,” he admitted. “I should have stopped when I realized what it was, but I read how you felt about me, and I- I couldn’t believe it. The more I read, the more I realized you felt as I did.”

She smiled and lifted her head to press a soft kiss against him. “I do love you,” she whispered sweetly, “And I’m sorry I broke the orb.” 

“And I’m sorry I read your diary,” he said softly, “Am I forgiven?” 

She nodded, “Am I?” 

Smiling, Rumple moved his hand so it was pressed against the small of her back. Belle shivered with excitement as he pressed her closer and waited for his answer. 

“Only if you spend the rest of the day making it up to me,” he said teasingly. Belle giggled and wrapped her arms around him. 

“What would you have me do, then, oh Dark One?"  

 

He pressed a series of kisses against her cheek, "I think I already made my expectations clear.” 

“Indeed you did,” she agreed, turning her head so his lips met hers. 


	52. Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle drugs Rumple.

Sunlight hit his face, causing him to groan and turn away. He blinked then, and it took him a moment to realize he was lying face down on the floor of his workroom, a blanket draped over him and a pillow underneath him. He sat up, feeling dizzy and out of sorts. Holding his head in his hands, he let out another pitiful groan, wondering what on earth had happened. 

Then it all came back to him, and he went rigid. Belle had  _drugged_ him. Growling in anger, he threw off the cover and stood, trying to ignore the dizzying effects of the potion she’d used. She’d no doubt done this to make her escape. He’d thought, after 5 months of living here, that they’d come to some sort of mutual and amicable existence, but it seemed he, once again, had been duped by a pretty face. 

He scowled and kicked the pillow. She’d done it to be cruel; tuck him in while he slept away before making her escape. It would have been embarrassing had he not been so angry. He stormed over to a hand mirror he kept face down and covered with a cloth. Picking it up, he demanded to know where his little caretaker was, hoping she was lost somewhere awful, so he could sneak up on her and scare her. Despite his affection for the girl, she would pay for this. 

The mirror swirled, and soon his reflection gave way to the image of Belle. Rumple frowned. She wasn’t running or hiding, or anything of the sort. The mirror showed her sitting in her library, wrapped in a blanket and reading. She hadn’t left? His heart fluttered with relief, but he suppressed the feeling. She may still be here, but she’d drugged him, and therefore had to have been up to  _something_. 

Deciding to find out, he disappeared from his room, only to reappear directly in front of her. She glanced up from her book and smiled at him with her usual sweetness. “Good morning,” she chirped pleasantly. Rumple glared and crossed his arms. 

“If you’re going to knock someone unconscious with the intentions of escape,” he sneered, “It’s usually best to leave  _before_ the victim wakes up.” 

Belle frowned and tilted her head quizzically. “I wasn’t planning to escape,” she said, and the confusion in her voice hinted to Rumple that the thought had never even crossed her mind. Leave it to him to assume the worst in people. “But you’ve been working for a week  _straight_. I don’t think I ever saw you take a break once, and I was getting worried. I knew you’d never listen to me, so I thought maybe if I put a little something in your tea, you’d get tired and go to bed.” She bit her lip and glanced away, “I had no idea you’d work until the potion literally knocked you off your feet.” 

Rumple gaped at her. She’d been worried about his health, and so she drugged him? Had he not been so stunned by his caretaker, he would have laughed. “And what?” He asked, the anger melting and amusement creeping in its place, “You thought you’d just  _leave_ me on the floor of my workroom?” 

Belle looked at him guiltily. “I can do much,” she said, “But I can’t carry you. I tried.” 

The image of this petite woman trying her hardest to lift his unconscious form was all kinds of hilarious, and he realized far too late that he was laughing at her. She frowned, still confused. “You’re not mad, are you?” She asked worriedly, “I mean, I know it was wrong to drug you, but…you seem in much better spirits now. More so than when you’d gone fifty-nine hours without sleep.” 

“I can get rather focused,” Rumple admitted with a slight shrug. Belle giggled at that. 

“I’ll say.” 

Rumple stepped forward and spun around, dropping down onto the couch next to Belle. “How about next time, you just ask me to take a break?” He suggested. Belle gave him a dry look. 

“I did. You told me to sod off.” 

Rumple looked at her apologetically. “Oh.” 

“So, next time, maybe you’ll listen to me,” she teased and Rumple nodded, the relief that she wasn’t up to anything but caring for him making his heart flutter once more. “But now,” Belle said as she shifted and leaned against Rumple, “Since you’re here, why don’t you let me read to you?” 

“I  _just_ took a break,” he complained. Belle shrugged. “Well, I just started mine,” she said, “And I’d like some company.” 

Rumple agreed, faking his reluctance. If Belle wanted to take a break - with him - then he supposed his work could wait a little longer. At any rate, he was still groggy from the potion, and that made it much easier for him to justify snuggling up close to his little maid while she read aloud. 


	53. Heart Beats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always said her name as if it were something valuable that he needed to treasure. He’d never spat out her name like a curse. That was reserved for the rest of the world; not her.

Rumplestiltskin was not himself today. Belle watched him from afar as he went about his day, and though he was as busy as ever, he moved with less flair than she was used to. She knew he got into a dark mood at times, no doubt caused by the loss of his son, but even then, he moved with a flourish that was so distinctly  _him_. Now he moved stiffly; there was no grace in his steps, no air of mystique or finesse to his movements. He simply… walked. It was alarming to Belle, for Rumple never simply did anything, and she knew there was more going on than just his occasional bout of sorrow. 

Following him, she kept her own footsteps quiet so as not to alert him to her presence. Not that it hardly mattered, she reckoned. Ever since this morning, he’d hardly noticed or acknowledged her. Usually when she brought him his morning tea, he’d tease her about one thing or another, then compliment her on her improving tea-making ability. Today, he’d merely taken his cup, drank it in one large gulp, and set to work. He hadn’t said a word, not even a thank you, and Belle had spent the rest of the morning tending to her wounded heart. It wasn’t like him to be so callous and cold. Even in his angriest moments, Rumple was passionate and warm. And he  _never_ ignored her. 

He entered his work room, and Belle was surprised that he’d left the door open a crack. She crept down and peered through the small opening, hoping to see what was causing Rumple’s strange behavior. Her worry grew when she saw him simply begin working. He pulled out ingredients and mixed them with precise movements, but again, Belle frowned as she watched him move without any hint of liveliness. Something had clearly happened to him, she realized, and she was going to find out what.   
  
She crept back to the kitchen and made tea, and a plate of his favorite pastries. She never would have guessed the Dark One to have such a sweet tooth. Carrying the tea tray, deliberately set for two, she entered his work room, a smile plastered onto her face. She placed the tray on the table, and watched him expectantly, waiting for him to acknowledge her. When he didn’t, her smile fell and she softly cleared her throat. “I brought tea."   
  
He looked at her then, and only barely, then nodded and set back to work. "Very good,” he said, his voice low, dry, and uninterested. “Just leave it there and I’ll have some later." 

Belle rubbed her lips together, debating on whether or not to speak. When he continued to ignore her, she did. "I thought we might take tea together,” she offered with a strained sense of pleasantry. “I’ve hardly seen you all day, and thought it might be nice-" 

"I’m rather busy, in case you couldn’t tell,” Rumple stated plainly, not once looking up to acknowledge her. His hands moved quickly, cutting ingredients and measuring them. 

Belle felt tears sting her eyes, and stepped forward, placing her hand on Rumple’s forearm. He ceased his movements but did not look at her. Belle pushed further, stepping in between him and the table, very aware that he was holding a knife. She knew he’d never do anything so horrid as that, but he was also behaving strangely, and she couldn’t be too careful. “Rumple, something’s happened to you,” she said softly, her concern making her voice shake. “You’re behavior is…different." 

He dropped the knife on the table and turned away from her, his shoulders tense. "I'm  _fine_ , Belle,” he said and the manner in which he spoke her name was enough to make the tears fall. He didn’t say her name often, but when he did it always felt like a caress. He said her name as if it were something valuable that he needed to treasure. He’d never spat out her name like a curse. That was reserved for the rest of the world; not her.  

She stepped forward again, thoroughly convinced he was under some spell. Had that queen he often complained about done something to him? Had a deal gone wrong? Had he been cursed?   
She stepped in front of him, imploring him to at least look at her. “Please tell me what’s going on,” she begged, “I’m worried about you." 

He tried to push past her, clearly uninterested in talking, but Belle had never been known to back down from a challenge so easily. She side-stepped and put her hand out to stop him. Her palm landed on his chest and they both froze. Belle blinked rapidly, then lifted her eyes to meet Rumple’s blank, cold ones. "Rumple,” she breathed, pressing her hand a little harder against his chest, “Why can’t I feel your heartbeat?" 

He stood rigidly still for a long moment, then shrugged. "Because it’s not there,” he said at last. Belle’s mouth dropped open and she jerked her hand away. 

“What do you mean it’s  _not there_?” She knew there was magic she had no comprehension of, but this was absurd. People could remove their hearts and  _survive_? She’s never heard such a thing, and to see it before her was truly terrifying. 

“It’s. Not. There.” He said again, emphasizing each word as if he were speaking to someone of lesser intelligence. “I took it out." 

There were a number of questions that lay on the tip of Belle’s tongue: how did one remove their own heart? Where  _was_ his heart? Could it be put back in? What kind of magic allowed for such a thing? She asked none of those, instead choosing the most important question: "Why?" 

She could see the debate going back and forth in his eyes, and it was the first real sign of life he’d exhibited all day. She waited patiently, and when he didn’t speak she stretched her hand out slowly and touched the space where his heart should be. "Why, Rumple?" 

It was disconcerting to feel nothing beneath his skin, but she held her hand steady, her thumb lightly moving back and forth in what she hoped was a comforting manner. At length, Rumple sighed and sagged, answering her with a pitiful, "Because of you.”

Out of all the reasons she could have surmised for his removing his heart,  _she_ had not been a consideration. Her mind strained to come up with a reason why he would have to remove his heart because of her, and she could think of nothing. She shook her head, her face strained in confusion, and waited helplessly for him to elaborate. 

“You,” he said again, his voice hollow, “Are always on my mind. In my heart. I can do nothing without thinking about you. I want to keep you by my side always, but I know that’s not possible. So, in order to do what needs to be done without distraction, I removed my heart.” He shrugged again and turned away from her, as if his confession meant nothing. And to someone without a heart, perhaps it didn’t. Belle followed him, grabbing his arm to keep him from getting away. 

“Put it back,” she requested, her eyes pleading, “Please. No one should be without their heart." 

Rumple stared blankly at her, and Belle wondered what he was thinking. It was clear to her now what removing the heart did to a person. It wasn’t a matter of keeping someone alive; he was  _clearly_ alive. The removal of the heart was a removal of one’s ability to love. And Rumple loved. She knew he loved his son. If she knew nothing else about the man (and in some ways, she didn’t) she knew that love was a driving force for Rumplestiltskin. Whatever happened to his son, it was Rumple’s love that kept him going. If he had somehow come to love her too…

She flushed at that, wondering absently if the feelings she knew she had for the man before her were love as well. She felt strongly for him, but had never stopped to consider the depth of her feelings. She continued to stare at him, silently willing him to obey her request. He wasn’t himself without his heart, and she desperately missed that man. She could love that man, if she didn’t already. 

At length, he stepped away from her and Belle cried out softly, afraid he was going to disregard her completely in favor of his heartless state. She vowed not to be angry at him if he did; he wasn’t the same without his heart. Relief filled her when he picked up a small ornate chest and turned around again to face her. He opened it, and she stared wide eyed at the red and black-stained beating thing that lay within. She reached out curiously, then drew her hand back as it dawned on her that perhaps he didn’t want her touching his heart. (He was so very protective of his things, after all.)   
  
He offered her the box. "Go on,” he assured her, and Belle hesitated only a moment before she reached in and pulled out the heart. It fluttered in her palm, and Belle couldn’t help the smile that crossed her lips as she held Rumplestiltskin’s heart in her hands. She ran her fingers over it gently, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Rumple shivered from the touch. She did it once more, smiling gently as he gasped at the sensation. It seemed, under the right circumstances (and the right hands) he could still feel.   
  
She stepped forward and he did as well, meeting her halfway. He opened his arms wide, indicating his vulnerability and trust in her. “If you’re going to do it, just do it,” he said blandly, “I have to get back to work." 

She nodded, knowing it was his lack of heart talking, and lifted her hand to restore his heart. She paused a moment, then brought the heart back to her lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to it. Rumple closed his eyes and for a moment, a look of ecstasy crossed his features. Belle smiled radiantly at him before reaching forward and shoving her hand into his chest. They both cried out at the sensation, Rumple in pain, Belle in shock, but she did not let go until she felt the familiar and beautiful  _thump, thump_  of Rumplestiltskin’s heart beating. She carefully let go and slid her hand out of his chest, resisting the urge to wipe her hand on her skirts. 

Waiting, Belle stepped forward and touched Rumple’s cheek. He looked pained, as if having his heart returned was too great a burden. His breathing was heavy, and he looked utterly confused and disoriented. His eye lifted to meet Belle’s and she felt her breath catch as she saw the emotion storming in his eyes. He was back. 

Unable to do anything else, Belle wound her arms around his neck, squeezing him in a tight embrace. A moment later she felt his hands squeeze her, and she buried her head into his shoulder. "Don’t ever remove your heart again, do you hear me?” she chided and Rumple said nothing. Instead he lifted his hand to tangle in her curls, and Belle took that to be his acquiescence. 

“I swear,” he whispered at length, as he clutched her tighter, and Belle wondered if it was from the restoration of his heart that made him so momentarily clingy, or if he were simply acting on his seemingly empty words from before. He’d said without any ceremony that he cared about her. She was in his every thought, just as he was in hers, and where she simply relished in her delightful musings, he’d been tormented.   
  
Belle shuddered at the thought of causing this man pain. It was clear he’d suffered enough.   
  
Rumple moved away, though he still held onto her, and smiled softly as he played with the strands of hair that framed her face. “You were so gentle,” he said, his eyes shining in awe at her, “When you held my heart.” Belle nodded and let her hand rest over it, taking comfort in the steady beating. 

“Of course I was,” she laughed, “It’s precious and in need of care." 

  
He grinned at that. "I suppose it’s a good thing I dealt for a caretaker, then,” he mused aloud and Belle nodded. 

“It is.” She waited a moment, then slid her hands around so she was hugging him again. “Please don’t run from your feelings again,” she said, laying her head on his chest. His heartbeat was addictive. “Did you mean what you said?" 

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "I meant it. You drive me to distraction." 

"I don’t mean to,” she giggled, then gasped when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I know,” he whispered, “But you do it nonetheless." 

"I’m sorry." 

She felt his shake his head above her. "Don’t be, Belle,” he urged her, “I never thought anyone could lo- could care for me.” He sighed, “And I vowed to love nothing until I found my son again." 

"So you  _do_ love me?" 

He tensed, but there was nothing for it. She’d asked him not to run from his feelings, and if anything, he was tired of being alone. He could still love Bae  _and_ love Belle too. His heart had plenty of room for them both. 

"With all my heart,” he promised, and Belle squeezed him, laughing in delight. 

“I love you, too,” she said. And she did. Holding his heart in her hands, feeling it beat and flutter under her caress had sealed her fate. Rumplestiltskin had  _given_ her his heart. Even without it, even without the love and compassion, and everything the heart contained, he’d trusted her with it, and she’d known the moment she felt it beat in his chest - because of  _her -_ that she loved him. She had always cared for him but now she was certain that it was indeed love. How could she  _not_  lovethis man? He was so full of love and she was inspired by him. 

He pushed her back, but only just so, and let his lips meet her hesitantly. She felt magic - it had to be magic - course through her, and it was so electrifying and warm that Belle exclaimed in surprise and clutched at Rumple tighter, afraid she might collapse from the overwhelming sensation of it all. He let his lips fall away from hers after a moment, staring at her breathlessly. “Belle,” he breathed, and his lips caressed her name in that familiar way she so loved. 

“What was that?” She asked him, still feeling dizzy and breathless from the kiss he’d given her. 

“Magic,” he breathed, and Belle looked at him curiously. 

“It felt-” she paused, searching for the word. It had been so many things, but above all it had been- “lovely." 

He chuckled and let his forehead rest against hers. "That’s because it was born out of love,” he said. “I believe you could call it ‘True Love’s Kiss’." 

She beamed at him, and with her hand resting on his quick-beating heart, she kissed him again. 


	54. Sore Loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple’s a sore loser.

“You cheated.”

Belle sputtered and gaped at Rumplestiltskin, “I did no such thing!” She declared with a huff.

Rumple leaned in closer and studied Belle accusingly. “I think you did.”

She pushed at him weekly, annoyed that he would accuse of something so awful. “How on earth does one even cheat at hide-and-seek?”

“You continuously change your hiding spot,” Rumple explained with a flourish.

“Oh,” Belle grinned smugly, “You mean that thing you did when  _you_ were hiding and ended up in appearing right in the spot I was looking?”

Rumple had the decency to look ashamed of himself and Belle smirked, knowing she had won the game and the argument. “That’s what I thought,” she said, satisfied, “You’re just jealous that even with magic, you’re  _terrible_ at hide-and-seek.”

Rumplestiltskin grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. Belle rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a sore loser,” she teased, “How about I hide again, and this time I  _promise_ not to go anywhere?”

Rumple pouted but nodded and Belle lifted his hands to cover his eyes. “Start counting,” she instructed, “And if you can find me, maybe you’ll get a reward.”

He grumbled but began to count. Belle pressed a kiss to his cheek then took off running. 


	55. Redecorating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle redecorates the Dark Castle while Rumple is away on one of his deals.

It was called the Dark Castlefor a  _reason._ One didn’t inspire fear in ones guests by entertaining in a brightly lit, decorated room. One inspired fear by making it dim, uninviting, and quite clear that the objects that  _were_ used for decoration were dangerous and not to be touched, if the guest valued his life.

So, when Rumplestiltskin returned to the  _Dark_ Castle to find the curtains drawn back, a bright fire burning in the hearth, and some of his more dangerous items replaced with vases of flowers and artistic statues, he found himself utterly baffled. Knowing immediately who was responsible for this, he called out, “ _Belle!”_

A few moments later, Belle appeared, looking lovely in her blue dress. She clutched a broom in her hand and wore a look of innocence on her face. (And oh, Rumple would never fall for that façade again.) She stood patiently before him, silently bidding him to tell her what he wanted.

“What,” he began slowly, teeth clenched in annoyance, “is all of this?” He gestured wide with his hand, and Belle took a moment to survey the room before realizing what he meant. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I redecorated.”

“You…redecorated,” he repeated, the absurdity of the situation too much for him to truly react. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Belle moved over to the large table and adjusted some of the roses she’d clearly taken from the gardens. She adjusted the vase, and when she was satisfied with its position, turned back to regard Rumplestiltskin. He was watching her with obvious confusion, and she smiled as she sauntered up to him.

“It was so dreary in here,” she explained simply, “I thought a change might do you some good.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rumple sighed. “You realize my home is called the  _Dark_ Castle, yes?”

Belle shrugged. “So? It’s not as if we have any visitors anyway.” She turned and began to sweep at a spot near the red patterned rug (and  _where_ had she gotten that?) She seemed oblivious to the fact that this was  _not_ her home to change at will, and he had half a mind to inform her of that fact, when she turned to face him again. “If you really don’t like it, I’ll put everything back,” she explained gently, “I just thought you were surrounded by enough darkness; I thought maybe a little light will be beneficial?” She shrugged again as she continued sweeping, “I know it’s cheered me up quite a bit.”  

His mouth hung open, the chiding words he’d prepared dying on the tip of his tongue. Her veiled words held a hidden agenda, he could tell. He was a master of words and understanding the meaning beneath them: she was worried about him and wanted to make him feel better. She only knew what worked for her – letting in the light and surrounding herself with cheer – and though she couldn’t have truly expected it to work for him, he realized he was genuinely touched by her efforts.

“I suppose you can leave it this way,” he said at last, trying his best to seem displeased. In reality, he found he didn’t mind quite as much as he wanted her to believe. “But don’t be surprised when I change it back.” Belle nodded in understanding and offered him a gentle smile. He found his own lips twitching upward and the shock of that sent him practically scurrying out of the room.

Three months later, the décor still hadn’t been changed back. 


	56. Speechless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle knows many languages.

The thing about cursing an entire realm is that people of multiple regions, cultures, and languages all ended up together in a rather small space. It hadn’t mattered until after the curse had been broken, but now that everyone remembered who they were, a mixture of cultures and languages began to bleed into the little Maine town.

For Belle, this was an absolute delight. She’d loved learning about different places when she lived in her father’s home, and her time at Rumplestiltskin’s castle had given her even greater access to faraway lands. Rumple had objects from all over the world and beyond, and had always been eager to share with her tales of the lands he visited.

She’d been a student of language with her tutors at home, and thanks to the numerous books provided by Rumple, she’d become fluent in several more. Now that the curse was broken and she was fully herself again, Belle was finding herself recalling her ability to understand many languages from their old land.

Rumple knew the languages of magic; Elvish and the Old Tongue, which Belle knew as well, but she was familiar with the common tongues of the people. She recalled in her brief time with Mulan speaking in Chinese and it had been a treat to see Mulan’s face when Belle had spoken fluently.

Now, however, she was learning the languages of this world. French had been first and Belle was already excelling in it. She loved the complexity and beauty of words. She loved reading the new world’s literature in the languages they had been written in. She thrived in the spoken and written word, and it was in these books that no one else understood that she truly felt at home.

Rumple encouraged her, of course. He asked her to speak to him in all languages, and though he didn’t understand a word, he took pleasure in reveling in how intelligent his love was. He loved hearing her speak to people in their language, and felt an immense amount of pride at knowing she’d learned a few of those languages during her stay with him so long ago.

There was a problem, however. With the restoration of memories and language, people began speaking to each other as they had before. And Rumple didn’t speak all those languages, which left him out of the loop on some of the goings on in Storybrooke. He didn’t begrudge people the comfort of speaking as they once had, but he didn’t like not understanding everything. He was supposed to be one step ahead of  _everyone_ and if he didn’t know what was being said, he was in trouble.

He knew he couldn’t ask Belle for help. She wouldn’t appreciate being turned into his own personal translator and spy, and he wouldn’t ask her anyway. She wasn’t his worker anymore. She was his partner, his lover. And at any rate, things were calming down in Storybrooke, so perhaps he didn’t quite need to be so far ahead of the game anymore.

It was with this thought that he met Belle at Granny’s, ready for a relaxing dinner with his beloved. He entered the diner, smiling slightly at the sight of Belle already seated at their usual booth. He joined her, reaching out to kiss her hand, taking pleasure in her blush. They ordered and began to speak quietly to each other about their respective days, when suddenly Belle went silent and leaned back slightly, her attention suddenly focused on the people in the booth behind her. Rumple raised an eyebrow in question but Belle shook her head slightly, indicating she didn’t want him to say anything.

Rumple realized the two women sitting behind them were talking in a language he didn’t know. Clearly their conversation was upsetting to Belle, though he had to admit he had never pegged her as an eavesdropper. After a moment, Belle stood and stepped in front of their table. She began to speak in their language, and though Rumple had no idea what she was saying, he could tell from her tone that she was not pleased. He could see one of the women look down in embarrassment, and Belle crossed her arms and smirked. She said something else, which caused the women’s heads to jerk up in surprise, then Belle moved back to her seat and smile sweetly at Rumple, as if she  _hadn’t_ just clearly chewed out two people in the middle of Granny’s.

She began to discuss what they’d been talking about before, and Rumple realized she would not say anything about the incident here. So, he played along and talked good naturedly with her until they left. When they neared the shop, Rumple tugged on Belle’s arm, forcing her to stop.

“What happened back there?” He asked. Belle blinked innocently at him and he glared. She could fool most of the town with that doe eyed look, but he  _knew_ her, and he knew she’d done something worth knowing about.

“Belle,” he said, not wanting to be kept waiting. Finally she sighed and threw up her hands in defeat.

“They were talking about you,” she said at last, “And I told them what I thought of their opinions.”

She turned to keep walking but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “What did they say?”

“It’s not important.”

Rumple frowned, “I’d like to know,” he insisted and Belle sighed.

“They were talking about how they didn’t understand how someone like the Dark One could not only find love, but find someone who loved him back. They said they thought you were wicked and unlovable.”

It was nothing he hadn’t heard before, but it still hurt. “And you said?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and replied, “I told them you were most definitely worthy of love, because  _everyone_ deserves to be loved and they had to be quite pathetic people to worry about the love life of someone they don’t know instead of worrying about their own. I told them that you were the greatest thing to happen to me and I didn’t appreciate others talking about us without knowing all that we’ve been through.”

It was beautiful to hear her profess her love to him in their shared language; hearing her declare her love in other languages was somehow more wonderful. The way she elegantly and perfectly formed her words, tearing down the cruelty others built up was a magic in itself and Rumple thanked the gods that Belle had seen past his horrid nature and discovered the man desperate for her love buried within. He kissed her, expressing his gratitude and love in a way that went beyond any language and Belle sighed happily against him. She pulled away and smiled wickedly, “I also told them you’re amazing in bed and  _really_ know how to leave a girl speechless.”

She giggled then spun out of his arms, practically skipping down the sidewalk. Rumple stared after her, dumbfounded, trying to wrap his mind around his modest little Belle bragging about their sex life to strangers. Then he smirked wickedly. He  _had_ to be good if he could, as Belle claimed, leave a girl (who knew near ten languages) unable to speak. He decided he wanted to put her words to the test, and followed after her, a spring in his step and several wicked ideas forming in his head. 


	57. Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple kisses away her tears.

He should have known better than to let her return home for her birthday. He had not accompanied her, choosing instead to let her have a happy day with her father, but he had the distinct feeling it would not be the most pleasant of visits. He’d given her a ring, small and delicate, and told her to put it on when she was ready to return to him. He’d expected - hoped - her to stay as long as possible. He’d given her a curfew - three days - and had expected her to stay until the very last moment. And he didn’t begrudge her the visit. She loved and missed her father, and if anything, he could appreciate a child’s love for their Papa.  

So, when she appeared in the great hall a mere four hours later, he had to admit he was surprised. A quip was on his tongue, but it made it no further as he suddenly found himself with an armful of his lovely caretaker, crying hard into his chest. Instantly his arms were around her, holding her tightly as she sobbed against him. 

When she quieted, he pulled her with him to sit in his large armchair. He curled her up on his lap, and lifted her head gently so he could see her. “What happened?” 

She sniffled and he produced a handkerchief with a wave of his hand. Offering it to Belle, he caught her hand and squeezed it gently, “Was it your father?” 

She nodded and blew her nose into the cloth. “Yes,” she said, her voice raspy from crying. “He thinks you abuse me, and take advantage of me. When I said that wasn’t the case, he accused me of being under some spell. He called me a harlot and a traitor, and even the servants and others in the castle refused to help me. They all looked at me as if I were deplorable. I-” She began to cry again and Rumple cradled her close. 

“Oh, my sweet Belle,” he whispered, doing everything to keep his anger in check. He could rage later; now Belle needed him. “I’m so sorry.” 

She cuddled closer to him, “I knew things would not be as they were,” she admitted, “But I thought Papa would understand. I would never be a harlot, and you’ve always been a gentleman with me.” It was true, he thought idly. Ever since that first kiss between them, they’d grown closer together, but they had yet to do more than hesitantly kiss. It was a slow burn, one he cherished greatly. Fiery passion was a grand thing, but that affair had only left him burned and bitter. With Belle he lived for each soft touch, each shy glance, and every tentative kiss. They had forever, and they were going to do this right. 

“It makes no difference if you’re my harlot or not,” Rumple seethed, “He is your father, and should not speak to the woman who  _saved his kingdom_  from the ogres.” 

“People forget,” she sighed, as another tear slid down her cheek. Leaning down, Rumple pressed his lips to her cheek, catching the tear with his tongue. She shivered, clearly having enjoyed the sensation, but she was still despairing. Her tears fell anew and Rumple worked diligently, catching each one and replacing it with a kiss. Belle sighed contentedly as he kissed her cheeks, and at length her tears ceased to fall. He kissed her more regardless, peppering her cheeks, chin, and neck with the lightest brush of his lips. 

“Shall I pay your father a visit?” He murmured as he pulled her up so he could nibble at her neck, “Let him know what we think of his ignorant words?” 

Belle shook her head, and reached up to thread her fingers through Rumple’s curls, “No,” she sighed, “I’d rather spend my birthday with someone who cares about me than waste my time on those who don’t.” 

He smirked against her, lifting his head to wipe away one more tear that threatened to fall. “And I care for you, dearest. So very much.” 

She smiled peacefully and turned to catch his lips with hers. She could taste the salt from her tears and her smile grew as she thought of his tenderness. “I know you do." 


	58. Words on Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple and Belle visits Neal’s grave. Prompted by Steampunk-archer.

“It should say more.”

Belle glances up at Rumple, who stands wearily over his son’s grave. She glances back down to the headstone, where the words  _Beloved Son_  are engraved. She frowns. “I didn’t know what else to put,” she admits at last, causing Rumple to turn sharply to her. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says urgently, resting his hand on her arm. “It’s just that he was so much more…” 

She nods in understanding. She knows she selected the phrase in a not-quite-there state of mind, her only thoughts being of the son Rumple had lost, and the son she’d never had a a chance to really call her own. He was many things, but her thoughts had been of what Neal meant to Rumple, the one who loved him most and the one who’d been kept from properly saying goodbye to his son.

 "We can change it, perhaps?“ She suggests, and Rumple nods silently. 

Lifting his hand, he sends a gentle wave of magic over the headstone, covering it in his signature purple smoke. When it fades, Belle cannot help but smile sadly at what she sees. 

_Beloved son_ _, loving father  
_

_A true hero_

"It suits him,” she says, linking her arms around his. He grunts, his way of agreeing, before leaning forward to place his hand on his son’s gravestone. 

“I’m so sorry, Bae,” he whispers brokenly, and Belle steps away to let him have this moment. He needs to say goodbye to his son, and he needs to do it without her interfering. She’s already sat before his grave, pouring her heart out to the man she’d come to love so much. Now it was Rumple’s turn. 

She waits patiently as Rumple says his goodbyes, then they leave together, hand in hand. Rumple is right, Belle thinks idly, looking back at the stone. Neal-  _Bae_ is so much more than just a son. He means so much to so many people, and no amount of words on stone can ever truly express the love, devotion, and heroism of the man resting beneath it. 


	59. Attractive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you find attractive, then?”

“And what of your…betrothed?” He asks slyly, silently cursing himself for bringing up the handsome knight who no doubt has wooed his lovely caretaker. He blinks in surprise when Belle shrugs. 

“Honestly?” She says, her nose wrinkling in distaste, “I never cared much for Gaston.” 

“Oh?” He tries to seem only mildly interested, but really, he’s completely enthralled. Could it be that she prefers scaled wizards to handsome knights?

She shrugs again. “He’s so pompous,” she says, “And vain. And honestly, I never found him that attractive. I mean, he’s handsome, I suppose, but I’ve never been drawn to those considered conventionally handsome.” 

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist. “What  _do_ you find attractive, then?” 

She giggles and blushes, then looks at him sweetly. “It’d be easier to just show you,” she says softly, “But you insist on keeping all the mirrors covered.”   
  
She hops off the table and saunters out of the room, leaving Rumplestiltskin gaping in his seat. 


	60. (No) Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin shows mercy only when it’s deserved. This time it isn’t.

“Give me  _one_ good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Rumplestiltskin seethed as he stood before Sir Maurice. The clerics that had tortured his beloved Belle were scattered around the room, dead. Maurice trembled in fear and it made Rumplestiltskin sick to see the terror in the man’s eyes. He’d been a coward once before, but this was a new low. His sacrifice of Baelfire had been a true accident. A moment of panic that resulted in a lifetime of pain and searching. 

Maurice had deliberately hurt his child, and that was something Rumplestiltskin would not allow. He let magic dance on his palm, the purple light flickering menacingly at Maurice. His eyes rolled back and forth between it and the man holding it, and he trembled. 

“She was cursed,” he declared, “By  _you._ It’s your fault!” 

Rumple’s eyes narrowed, “My fault? What do you mean ‘my fault’? The only thing I  _ever_ did to her was love her. And you  _tortured_ her because she dared to love me in return!” 

“No one could love a monster like you!” Maurice shouted before biting his lips as he realized his error. 

“She could. She does.” 

Maurice fell back and Rumple stepped forward. Maurice, growing desperate, cried out, “If you kill me she’ll never forgive you!” 

That gave him pause. Rumple knew his Belle. She was a kind and gentle soul, who valued all life and was kind to everyone, whether they deserved it or not. Despite what he’d done, Maurice was  _still_ her father, and though Belle may never forgive him, she certainly wouldn’t want her father to die. 

But Belle wasn’t here. Rumplestiltskin raised his hand and Maurice stretched out his own hand. “Please! Have mercy!” 

Rage lit up Rumple’s eyes. “The way you showed mercy to your own daughter? Where was her mercy when she cried out, begging you to stop? Where was her mercy when you let your mangy clerics loose on her, to do what they wished? Where was Belle’s mercy!” 

Maurice shook his head,tears streaming down his face. “Please…” he asked again. 

Rumple regarded him for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “No.” 

Maurice screamed as the purple smoke enveloped him. After a moment, his cries vanished with the smoke, leaving only a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Rumple stepped forward and picked them up, arranging the blooms delicately in his hand. They would brighten Belle’s room tremendously, Rumple thought, as he disappeared to Belle’s side. 

She smiled weakly as he placed the vase of flowers on her bedside table. She lifted her hand, still weak from her ordeal, and Rumple gently entwined their fingers. “Thank you,” she murmured sleepily. 

“Anything for you,” Rumple whispered gently as he sat by his beloved’s bedside, watching over her as she slept. “Anything for you.”


	61. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He trusts her. Prompted by the-petite-pixie

Rumplestiltskin glares at Belle, who has been grinning smugly at him for days. He catches her doing it when she thinks he isn’t looking, and although he’s secretly pleased she was right, her gloating is beginning to try his patience. 

“Oh, just come out with it!” He finally snaps after he catches her sly grin for possibly the hundredth time. Belle blinks innocently and tilts her head. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just say it, dearie, whatever it is you want to say.”

She debates for a moment, then smiles, “I told you so.” 

He rolls his eyes and makes a face at her. She giggles at his immaturity, then steps forward and becomes serious. “But next time,” she asks, reaching out to take his hand, “Will you trust me?” 

“Trust the foolish caretaker who let my prisoner go? I think not,” he declares tightly, and strides out of the room. 

~000~

Belle sits in her library, the one she still can’t quite believe is  _hers_ , when Rumple enters the room. He looks nervous and distracted, and Belle watches him warily. Perhaps she shouldn’t have teased him the other day. He’d seemed rather put out by it. 

He steps forward, hands behind his back, and leans over Belle almost menacingly. “I will be going out for a few days,” he says matter of fact, and Belle frowns. She hasn’t been here long, but she’s already become fond of Rumplestiltskin, and the days he is absent from the castle are dreary and unpleasant at best. She enjoys his company, no matter what he does to try to intimidate her. She knows he likes her, the library is proof enough. She just wishes he wouldn’t pretend to be so cold. 

“Be safe,” she says, not knowing what else to say to him. An apology is on the tip of her tongue, but Rumple pulls his hands in front of him, causing Belle to jump at what he holds. 

It’s a dagger, curved and elegant, and she notices instantly that his name is etched in the blade. She glances up at him in wonder, and he pushes the dagger forward. “Take it,” he instructs. Belle stands and picks up the dagger, noticing that Rumplestiltskin shivers when she touches the hilt. 

“What is it?” She asks, “Besides the obvious?”

“It controls me,” Rumple says, wincing when she lets it fall to the ground in shock. 

“I don’t want to control you!” Belle cries instantly, and Rumple sighs, using his magic to lift the dagger back into his grip. 

“I don’t want you to, either,” he sighs, “I want you to protect it.” 

She looks at him skeptically, “You’re entrusting a dagger  _that controls you_ to your magic-less maid?” 

He nods, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes.” 

She stares at him dumbly before finally managing to ask, “Why?” 

He shrugs. “I’d feel better knowing it was in good hands.” 

She glances at it, hesitantly reaching out to touch the flat of the blade. He shivers at the touch. She glances up at him, wonder in her eyes, “Are you certain?” 

He nods. “I trust you.” 

She starts, and he quickly presses the dagger to her palm before disappearing in a whirl of smoke. She stands frozen, holding the dagger loosely in her hands. Then she giggles, and a smile spreads wide over her features. He’s making up for the fiasco with the prisoner, and Belle feels her heart swell with fondness for the Dark One. She takes her seat back on the sofa and curls up with her book. She keeps one hand on the dagger at all times, vowing that she’ll keep it - and its master - safe and sound. 


	62. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple’s life has always been in his hands. Prompted by steampunk-archer

He spun to forget. It was his coping mechanism, instilled in him since he was a little boy over three hundred years ago. He spun to forget about his father’s abandonment, the spinsters’ deaths, the loss of his son, the ‘death’ of Belle. He relied on spinning like his body relied on breathing to survive. It was a part of him.

But that was in the past. Time had marched on, and to Rumple’s great chagrin, he grew older. Now that he was no longer immortal or magical, he had no way of keeping himself in perfect health. And it seemed the cost of so many years in top physical form had finally caught up with him. Now his hands began to curl and stiffen, the joints protesting violently to even the most simple of movements. Spinning became a chore, and it was with great devastation that he called upon Charming and Neal to help him move the spinning wheel out of the living room and into one of the spare rooms. Spinning was becoming painful now, and looking upon the wheel he could hardly use was unbearable. 

Belle watched on with sympathy as her True Love tried his best to carry on with life as his hands slowly betrayed him. Finally, after much arguing and begging, she convinced him to see Dr. Whale, who confirmed with a frown that it was in fact arthritis. He prescribed medication, which Belle had to slip into his food because Rumple refused to take it. 

His hands seemed to deteriorate with each passing day. He took to wearing gloves at all times, not wanting to draw attention to his crooked fingers, and the rest of his family watched in uncertain silence as Rumplestiltskin began to sink into a bitter depression. Nothing could cheer him up; not Henry with his innocent kindness, nor Neal and Emma, who tried to distract him from his pain by discussing their wedding preparations. Rumple put on a brave face, but nothing could bring him the relief that spinning had brought him.

~000~ 

He sat alone in the guest room where the spinning wheel was, staring at it forlornly.  few minutes later, Belle entered, carrying a tea tray. He didn’t look up, instead dwelling on his predicament. Belle placed the tray down and knelt in front of Rumple. She took his hands in hers, and he winced, not liking his hands to be touched now that they were bent. She said nothing, instead slipping the leather gloves off. Rumple glared down at her. “Belle,” he warned. 

She said nothing, instead taking his hands lovingly in hers and began to press kisses to each finger and knuckle. He watched her in awe, unable to believe she could be so caring and compassionate. When she finished kissing them, she gently began to move his fingers, extremely slowly and carefully, glancing up at him every couple seconds to see if he was in pain. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable, and Rumple watched as she folded, flexed, and moved his fingers in varying ways. He could feel his joints loosen ever so slightly, and as she moved to his other hand he asked, “What are you doing?” 

She continued to work his fingers, then whispered, “I did some research, and there are exercises you can do. It won’t cure you, but it’ll make things bearable.” She smiled, “If we do it enough, you might be able to try spinning again.” She shrugged, “It’s worth a shot.” 

She looked up when a tear landed on their joined fingers. She offered him a sympathetic look and raised herself up on her knees. Lifting one hand, she caressed his cheek, smiling softly when he pressed a kiss to her palm. “Thank you for never giving up on me, Belle,” he whispered. 

She smiled. “Someone has to take care of you,” she teased, then picked up his hand and began to carefully help him move his fingers. 


	63. Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has never had pizza.

The family walked down the streets of New York, Neal and Emma talking over each other as they tried to describe the wonders of life outside Storybrooke to Henry and Belle. Gold stayed one step behind, listening intently as his son explained to his True Love what pizza was, and Gold couldn’t help but grin. 

He had his son. He had Belle. And, as if things couldn’t get any more perfect, he had a grandson. Gold had always been fond of the boy, chalking it up to the fact that Henry simply reminded him of Bae. Now he knew why. 

Belle laughed, then glanced back at him and smiled. She held out her hand, slowing her steps so that Gold could catch up to her and he laced his fingers with hers. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then they carried on. A step ahead of them, Neal and Emma were arguing over which toppings were best on a pizza, Henry getting hateful glares from his mother when he sided with his father. 

Emma turned back to Gold and Belle and implored, “You gotta help me, Gold. Neal is going to ruin your grandson’s taste in pizza.” 

Gold shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help, Miss Swan,” he said. “I prefer my pizza plain.” 

Rolling her eyes, Emma sighed, then looked at Belle. “Your boyfriend is useless,” she said, “You gotta help me.” 

Belle offered a small smile, “I’ve never had pizza,” she said, “But maybe the best way to settle this is to order several different kinds and we try them all?”

Neal whirled around and pointed at Belle excitedly. “Yes!” He declared, before grabbing Henry’s arm, “Best pizza is two blocks from here. Race ya!” 

  
Henry spared a glance at his mother who waved him away, and he took off after Neal. Emma smiled, and moved to walk beside Belle. The girls linked arms and Emma smiled. “I  never thought I’d be happy to see them together,” she mused. “But now it’s happened, I’m glad.”

“No child should grow up fatherless,” Gold said, and the wistfulness in his voice alerted Emma to the fact that she had more in common with the Dark One than she thought. 

“He won’t now,” Emma said decidedly. She smiled softly. “And to think, all I wished for on my twenty-eighth birthday was to not be alone. And now I have a crazy, magical family.” 

Belle nudged her gently, “It’s nice, though, isn’t it? To be reuinted with those you love?” 

She glanced at Gold who smiled lovingly at her. Emma nodded. “Yeah,” she said at lenght, “It is.” 

They reached the pizza shop where Henry and Neal were ordering what appeared to be enough pizza to feed an army. Gold wrapped his arm around Belle’s waist and whispered, “What do you want to try first?” She shrugged and leaned against him. 

“I don’t care,” she said, “I’m just glad we’re all together.” 

Looking at his family, the one that had grown exponentially in the matter of days, he agreed. 


	64. Perfume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold has an allergy.

The bell jingles, signaling her arrival. Normally Gold would be thrilled to see his beloved Belle, but lately it’s been almost unbearable to be near her. During her explorations of the new world, she’s discovered, thanks to Ruby, perfume. It isn’t that Gold dislikes the scent she favors. In fact he adores it. But the problem is he’s allergic to it. It gives him the worst headache and causes him to sneeze constantly in her presence.

  
Belle worried that he was getting sick, but he assured her he was fine. He claimed it was the dust in the shop, which Belle had promptly offered to stay and dust. That certainly wouldn’t help things and so he covered by claiming the library needed her more than his shop needed dusting, and sent her on her way. 

He feels his nose tingle from her scent and braces himself for the inevitable sneeze to come. She wraps her arms around him but he jerks away from her, sneezing once, twice, three times. When he turns back around, she’s frowning, her brow creased in worry. 

“I’m all right,” Gold says quickly, but he can tell Belle doesn’t believe him. 

“It’s my perfume, isn’t it?” 

He blinks, and wonders how on earth she found out. He instantly feels guilty for all the awful things he’s thought about the perfume. He shakes his head slowly, due to the headache that is starting to pound and asks, “No, sweetheart. Why?” 

It’s clear she doesn’t believe him when she crosses her arms and steps away. “Because I wore it when I was shopping with Ariel the other day and she sneezed a lot too. She came by the library earlier and started sneezing and mentioned she only did it when she smelled my perfume. I called Emma to see if you’d been sneezing around her and when she said ‘no’ I realized that it’s my fault.” 

“Belle-” he wants to tell her that he’ll endure sneezing for the rest of his life if the perfume makes her happy. He wants to tell her he lived with the agonized throbbing of his leg for a decade in the old world, and nearly three in this one. He can handle a bit of throbbing in his head. But she steps closer and presses a finger over his mouth. 

He has to turn away when another sneeze hits him. When he turns back around, Belle is looking at him pitifully. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“You like wearing it,” he admits weakly and she giggles. 

“Rumple, I like being with you more.” She leans forward and kisses him. He sighs against her, then moves as he sneezes again. Instead of the worried look she usually wears when he has a sneezing fit, now she’s grinning. 

“I should go,” she says and turns to leave. Gold reaches out to catch her. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Home,” she says simply, “To shower. I need to get this stuff off me if I want to spend more than five minutes with my True Love.” 

He gives her a sly look. “Need any help?” 

Belle’s grin is positively wicked. “Definitely." 


	65. Private

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Gold was caught doing a romantic gesture, and the one time he wasn’t. Prompted by inkonmyheartandonthepage

Mary Margaret hated going to the library so close to closing time. She, like the librarian Belle French, valued punctuality, but Mary Margaret had been held up by a frustrated parent demanding to know why her child was failing math. Perhaps if Derek actually  _did_ his homework, it wouldn’t be an issue.

She needed a book on the history of the French Revolution to make sure her lesson was as accurate as possible. It should be a simple thing to find; she could get in and get out before closing time. Mary Margaret opened the door to the library, hoping to be quick, but stopped short as she took in the scene in front of her.

Mr. Gold, the impeccably dressed, vicious town pawn broker, stood at the counter with a small bouquet of roses, which he was presenting to Belle. She looked awestruck, and Mary Margaret could hardly blame her. It was  _Gold,_ ruthless and mean Gold, looking every bit like a shy school boy. And Mary Margaret knew the behavior of shy school boys.

The door slammed shut behind her and all three of them jumped. Gold looked embarrassed, while Belle looked exceptionally flushed. Mary Margaret felt like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly frozen by the moment she’d just interrupted and lifted a trembling hand toward the history section.

“Fr-French Revolution.” 

Belle blinked curiously, then shook her head, offering the school teach a shy smile. “Third shelf on the left.” 

Mary Margaret nodded and rushed by, keeping her head down so as not to meet Gold’s eyes. She let out a breath of relief when she was hidden behind the shelves, and while she glanced quickly for the book she needed, she heard the gentle whisper of Belle saying, “So….um….tomorrow?”

Gold let out a gruff sound, murmured yes, then was gone. 

Mary Margaret found the book and handed it to Belle, trying not to meet her eyes. When she did finally look up, Belle was as red as the flowers next to her, and she offered Mary Margaret a small smile. “Due back two weeks from today.” 

Nodding, Mary Margaret grabbed the book and turned, before stopping and glancing back. “They’re pretty,” she said softly, and it was with only a bit of shock that she saw Belle’s eyes sparkle happily. 

~000~

They walk into Granny’s arm in arm, and the loud chatter of the room instantly quiets. People stare, some more obnoxiously than others, but they walk together and ignore everyone but each other. They choose a booth right in the middle - if people are going to stare, why not give them a good view?- and Ruby approaches to give them menus. She eyes Belle curiously, but the pretty librarian says nothing except that she’d like a sweet tea. Gold echoes her request and Ruby knows she’s dismissed. 

Once they are alone, as alone as one can be in the middle of a diner, Belle reaches out and takes Gold’s hand, which is tapping nervously on the table. 

“You okay?” She asks softly and Gold nods.

“Aren’t you bothered?” 

She shakes her head. “My attention is solely on you. Though you may lose it when I get my hamburger.” 

He chuckles and pulls her hand to his lips. He can hear murmurs from those around them, but he doesn’t waste time worrying. Belle French is on a date with him, and it’s more than he ever dare dreamed.

When they leave, she wraps her arm around his waist, and he returns the favor by sliding his arm around her shoulders. He tugs her close and they walk out together, leaving a stunned restaurant in their wake.

  
~000~ 

  
 David is running late. He needs to get home, but there are errands to run and while he thinks they could be put off until tomorrow, his wife was insistent they be done today. He checks off items on his ‘honey-do’ list one by one, until at last all he has to do is drop of Mary Margaret’s antique ring at Gold’s for a proper cleaning. It’s a rare piece of jewelry, and Mary Margaret only trusts Mr. Gold’s careful attention to detail to care for her ring.

David enters the shop, thinking it’ll be a quick stop before he can go home. Instead he freezes, eyes widening in surprise as he sees the usually hateful pawnbroker and the sweet little librarian wrapped in each others arms, lips moving gently together. 

He’d heard about the incident at the library from his wife, and some of his pal’s had mentioned seeing Gold on a date, but David hadn’t thought too much about it. He closes the door, the bell jingling to signal his presence. Gold jerks away from the librarian, looking wild and startled. His lips are slightly stained with lipstick, but David decides not to point it out. Instead he swallows thickly and steps forward, holding the ring out in front of him.

“Mary Mar-” 

“Yes, yes, she needs it cleaned,” Gold says, hastily taking the ring from David’s hand. “I’ll have it ready tomorrow afternoon.” 

Gold won’t meet his eyes, and Belle looks positively flustered, and so David nods his head in farewell and rushes out the door.

When the bell jingles again to signal his departure, Belle giggles and rests her head on Gold’s chest. “Oops,” she laughs and Gold sighs before Belle pulls him down by his tie and kisses him again.

~000~

They’re in the back of the shop, pressed tightly together. One of Belle’s legs is wrapped around Gold’s waist, giving him the perfect angle to reach down and caress between her thighs. She moans and sighs against him, and feels him getting hard against her. She manages to focus enough to undo his tie, throwing it onto the table beside her. Gold arches against her and she sighs, lifting her lips to press kisses along his jaw.

 

He gets her shirt off, and she finally manages to get his shirt unbuttoned when a voice declares- 

“Oh dear God.” 

They jerk away from each other, the sound coming from neither of them, and Gold turns to see Mayor Mills standing at the threshold of the back room, a look of disgust marring her always frowning features. Gold pulls Belle behind him so she maintains some decency and clears his throat. 

“The sign says 'closed’, dearie.” 

Regina rolls her eyes to the ceiling and sighs, “Please make yourself presentable. I need to talk to you.” 

Gold makes no move to adjust his appearance. He keeps one arm bent behind him, holding onto Belle, and sneers at the Mayor. “I’m a little busy at the moment,” he says and Regina laughs dryly. 

“I’m  _sure_ you are.” 

“Out.” 

Regina blinks, glancing down at Gold, then immediately looking back up. She has no desire to see the always immaculate Mr. Gold in such a disheveled state. It’s distracting and unpleasant and nothing she has to say is worth having to witness this. She swallows the bile in her throat and glances down, forcing herself to focus on his face. “I have important business.” 

“And it can wait.”

Regina sneers and turns around. She pauses, then calls back, “Shouldn’t you be at the library, Ms. French? Or are the tax payers paying you to keep Mr. Gold company instead.” 

She doesn’t know what she expects; she’s always been able to get away with snide comments directed at the librarian, who is too kind to ever snap back. But Belle surprises Regina when she says, “I’m on lunch, and what I do on my break is no one’s concern but my own. And if you had any sort of decency, you wouldn’t misuse your authority to parade into places of business that are closed. This is private property, so you are technically trespassing.” 

Regina balks. Apparently Gold has rubbed off on her, in more ways than one. She says nothing and marches with what’s left of her dignity out of the store. Before she even makes it out, she hears a distinct giggle that warns her that she needs to hurry _._ Regina exits and slams the door shut. Cringing, she decides she desperately needs a drink.

~000~

 

 

Gold stands in line at Clark’s Pharmacy, trying his best to be discrete and unnoticed. But as the most feared and notable man in town, invisibility isn’t really possible. So he holds a carton of chocolate ice cream, the cold container making his hands go numb, and a box of tampons. Belle had called him ten minutes ago, voice raspy from crying as she apologized and begged for forgiveness before even asking him for the favor. She’d called Ruby, but the lunch hour was particularly busy today, and her other friend Ariel Fisher was sick, and so she’d been left with no choice. She couldn’t leave the library, and she was in desperate need of help.

Gold, naturally, had agreed to come to her rescue. 

But now he stood in line, feeling as if he had a large, flashing sign overhead that said, “Please notice me buying tampons for my girlfriend.” 

It wasn’t a big deal, he told himself. It was a natural occurrence that all women endured, and he’d witnessed over the eight months he and Belle had been together just how painful and crippling that time of the month could be. And at any rate, this was  _Belle._ He’d do anything for her, if she only asked, and really, it was a miracle that he had a girlfriend to buy tampons for in the first place. It was a strange thing to be grateful for, but he had Belle in his life, and if buying her a box of tampons was the price, he’d do it every day. 

He was the last one in line, for which he was grateful. He hoped to get out of this situation without anyone truly noticing what he had, but his hopes were dashed when the Sheriff stepped in line behind him. Gold glanced back and nodded at the tall Irish man, before facing the front again. After a moment, he heard Graham chuckle, and Gold glanced back, glaring. “Not a word.”

Graham held up his hands in defense. “I said nothing.” 

Gold’s glare deepened and suddenly he found himself explaining, “They’re not mine.” 

“I admit I  _was_ wondering…” 

Gold sighed and felt his cheeks redden. “Shut up.” 

He turned back to face the front, wishing more than anything that he were dead. He felt Graham take a step closer and lean over his shoulder. “Takes a brave man to do what you’re doing, though,” Graham murmured in his ear, “But I know from experience that you’ll be  _greatly_ rewarded for your troubles.” 

Gold turned, looking at Graham in surprise. Like him, the Sheriff was exceptionally quiet about his relationship with his blonde deputy. But it seemed they had an understanding of sorts, and of all the people Gold had to run into while taking care of Belle, he was grateful it was Graham. The Sheriff wagged his eyebrows, then pointed to the register, “You’re up.” 

Gold paid for his purchase and left as quickly as possible. 

Four days later, Gold passed by the Sheriff on the street. Neither stopped but Gold couldn’t resist offering the man a sly smirk and curt nod. As he passed, he heard the Sheriff chuckle, and Gold knew he got the message across: Belle had been  _quite_ grateful for his coming to her rescue…

~000~

 

Gold parked the Cadillac and limped over to the passenger side, opening the door for Belle. She smiled sweetly at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Grabbing their overnight bags, they entered the cabin by the lake. Gold flipped on the lights, and Belle gasped as she took in the numerous bouquets of roses scattered all over the room. There was a fire already lit in the hearth, and there was soft music playing from the record player in the corner. She turned to Gold and wrapped her arms around him tightly. 

“This is beautiful,” she said, and Gold smiled as he hugged her back. 

They ate dinner, then relaxed on the blanket in front of the fire, where they enjoyed dessert. Once they were done, Gold pulled Belle in his arms and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he breathed, and Belle giggled. 

“Happy anniversary,” she repeated, tilting her head back for a kiss. Their lips brushed, and Gold’s tongue slipped out to caress Belle’s lips. She sighed against him and turned so that she was straddling him. Gold groaned and deepened the kiss, running his hands over Belle’s back, fingers itching to pull down the zipper of her dress. 

He stopped, reminding himself of his plan, and gently pulled away. He carefully pushed Belle off his lap so she sat across from him, and took her hands in his. “We’re alone,” he said softly, and Belle nodded, not sure why he was declaring the obvious. 

He chuckled, “I’m a private man,” he began, “I’m sure you’re aware of that by now.” Belle nodded. “There have been so many moments in our relationship which others have managed to witness. When I first asked you out, our first date, our first kiss. That incident in the shop,” they both flushed at that, and Belle laughed, remembering how embarrassed she’d been. 

“We do have a knack for getting….interrupted,” Belle giggled. 

Gold nodded. “Indeed. Which is why we’re here.” He took her hands in his and let out a breath. 

“Belle,” he began, “I love you so much. I never thought I’d be as happy as I am now, but you’ve brought so much light and wonder into my world.” 

Belle smiled and squeezed his fingers. Gold continued, “And I never want that feeling to end. Every moment with you is precious and wonderful, and I hope that I can bring you as much joy as you’ve brought me.” 

“You have,” Belle assured him. 

Smiling, Gold let go of her hand and reached into his pocket. “I brought you here to celebrate our anniversary in private,” he said, “But I also brought you here because I wanted this moment to be entirely ours. No accidental interruptions. I want this to be perfect.” He shifted, and pulled out a small diamond ring. Belle’s eyes grew wide and she let out a choked sob. 

“Belle,” he whispered, “Will you marry me?” 

She pounced, and he fell onto his back, his arms clutching Belle tightly. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him frantically, “Yes, yes!” 

He laughed, and pulled away long enough to slip the ring onto Belle’s awaiting finger. She admired the small diamond for a long moment, then leaned down to kiss her fiance once more, grateful that for once, there would be no interruptions. 


	66. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold gets shot instead of Belle.

He sees Hook out of the corner of his eye, and is quick to act. He shoves Belle out of the way, silently cursing himself for the look of hurt and confusion on her face. Before she can do anything else, there is a deafening  _bang!_ and Rumple feels the sharp sting of metal piercing his shoulder. He staggers and falls, the pain far too much for him to take, over the line onto Storybrooke territory. 

He hears Belle calling out his name, but he’s so dizzy and pained that he can’t really answer her. He feels himself being moved, then hears what sounds distinctly like a car horn and a thudding crash. He manages to open up his eyes to see Belle, cell phone to her ear frantically begging Emma to come to the town line. He blacks out then, grateful for the sweet relief of unconsciousness.

When he wakes, it’s to an annoyingly constant beeping sound. He’s not comfortable, and the bed is entirely too small to be his own. The walls are a blinding white as opposed to the rose color of his bedroom. He tries to sit up but a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder and he grunts. Next to him - and how he failed to notice her before, he doesn’t know - Belle bolts upright, looking worried, then relieved as she sees Rumplestiltskin staring at her tiredly. 

“You’re awake,” she whispers and reaches out to take his hand. She doesn’t squeeze, but is gentle and tentative, letting her fingers lightly trail over his hand. He nods, not sure of what to possibly say and so he takes the opportunity to look at her. She looks a mess. She’s wearing the clothing from the night before (or what he assumes is from the night before). He hair is disheveled and slightly oily. Her makeup is smeared and she has dark circles under her eyes. Even at her worst, she’s still beautiful, and Rumple can’t help but smile at her obvious diligent watch over him. 

“What happened?” He finally asks. She blinks at him with worry. 

“You don’t remember?” 

He shakes his head weakly. “I remember pushing you out of the way. I remember pain.” 

Her lip trembles and her shoulders slump. “Hook shot you. You fell over the line, and I pulled you out of the way. A car drove through and hit Hook. He’s a floor above us. The driver of the car is in surgery. He’s in bad shape, apparently. Or, he was. I haven’t kept up with what else has been going on.” 

She means she hasn’t left his side and she doesn’t care about Hook or this stranger or anything that doesn’t involve him. It warms his heart and he smiles weakly at her. “Why don’t you go home?” He suggests, “I’m fine. You can rest, change, eat.” 

Belle shakes her head. “I’ll leave when you leave.” 

“That may be a while.” 

Belle shrugs. “Then I’m not going anywhere.” 

He moves his other hand to cover hers. He’ll try to convince her to go home later. He wants her to rest, to eat. He wants her to take care of herself, and she can’t do that if she’s sitting here fretting over him. He’ll be fine. When he’s feeling up to it, he’ll use a bit of magic on himself so he can get out of here faster. He knows if he sees Hook he’ll probably kill him, and going to jail for murder won’t get him any closer to his son. 

There’s also a concern about this stranger Belle mentioned, but he’s certain the Charming family are already taking care of that. And when they fail, they’ll come running to him anyway. He may as well enjoy the quiet and calm while he can. 

He lifts Belle’s hand to his lips and presses a light kiss to them, and her smile makes him feel better than any medicine could. “I love you,” he whispers, feeling drowsy and pained. 

Belle leans over and gently touches her lips to his. “I love you too,” she breathes, “Rest, Rumple. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He knows she’ll never leave him, he believes her above all things. And with the assurance that she’ll be what he sees upon awakening, he allows himself to drift back to sleep. 


	67. What She Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle knows what she wants. Prompted by itssandgirl

The phone rings and Isabel French has to force herself not to go running to answer it. Instead, she calmly dries her hands on the dish towel and walks slowly to her phone, picking it up to see who it is.  

_John Gold_

Biting her lip, her finger waves back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to answer the call. After a moment, the decision is made for her, and it switches to her voice mail. Sighing, Isabel sets the phone back on the table.  _He won’t leave a voice mail,_ she thinks bitterly.  _He’s too much of a coward._

She goes back to washing dishes, and tries not to think about her ex-lover. She’d been surprised when Gold, her most loyal and frequent patron at the library, had asked her out for coffee. She’d accepted and that one cup of coffee had turned into dinner three nights a week, which escalated into her dragging him into her apartment late one evening and fulfilling her desire of  _finally_ seeing John Gold come undone. 

It had all been perfect. But then she’d discovered that Gold had repossessed her father’s van, which had led to a vicious argument and ultimately him kicking her out of his shop, saying he valued his power and wealth more than he valued her, and she would always come second as far as what he wanted in life. 

Isabel French was  _not_ going to be second in anything, and so she’d walked out and hadn’t spoken to him in five weeks. 

It had been hard not seeing him at the library. It had been harder running into him at Granny’s. But she’d held her head high and kept the tears at bay until she was safely enclosed in the small children’s room, where she locked the door and cried until it was time to close. 

She’s doing better now, however. She can see him without wanting to break down, though she still feels a pang of hurt and longing seize her. She misses him, that she will not deny, but she won’t not succumb. Not when he’s made it clear how he feels about her. 

A soft little jingle plays from her phone, signaling a voice mail. Frowning, she walks over and picks it up. He’s left a message. In the three weeks since he called her at midnight, wanting to talk (in which she promptly hung up because who honestly calls at  _midnight on a Tuesday_ wanting to discuss their relationship?) he’s never left a voice mail. She’s tempted to just delete it. She doesn’t care what he has to say, not entirely, but she also misses his voice. Biting her lip and knowing she’ll hate herself in a few minutes, she puts the phone up to her ear and listens.   
_  
_

_“Isabel,”_ he says in that way that makes her heart flutter and her stomach twist, “It’s me.” 

There’s a pause, then a bitter laugh. _“But of course you know it’s me. That’s why you aren’t answering. Not that I blame you, of course. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either.”_ He pauses again, as if he hasn’t really thought this through. It makes her feel better knowing that he’s called her without a clear idea of what to say. It makes his words slightly more believable than if he’d come prepared with some memorized speech. 

 _“I’m sorry.”_

Isabel blinks in shock. He’s never uttered those words. _I really am. I don’t know what caused me to say those horrid things to you that day, but I’ve regretted them ever since. I….suppose I wanted to push you away. You deserve so much better than me and I know that. Part of me wishes I could just let you go, that way I can never hurt you again, but I’m too selfish for that, I think. God, I miss you.”_

She whimpers. She misses him too. _“I can’t think of anything but you. I can’t think of anything but how I fucked up and how I’d do anything to make it right between us. Even if that only means I’m welcome back into the library once a week to pick out a few books. I’ll take it. Whatever you give me I’ll take. Isabel, please, I lo-”_

It cuts off there, and a part of her is glad for it. She doesn’t think she can handle hearing words that they’d never got around to saying when they were together. They’d been very affectionate to each other (in private, of course) but he’d never been brave enough to tell her and she’d never felt a rush to alter what they had. 

She places the phone back down and decides she needs a drink. A moment later her phone rings again and she quickly presses the  _ignore_ button. 

She tries not to let it bother her when he doesn’t leave another voice mail. 

~000~

She keeps her phone with her at all times, just in case. Ruby might need her, or Mary Margaret may want to talk. Someone may need something, and so she keeps her phone nearby, waiting for someone to call. 

But not John, she tells herself. She’s over John, she tries to convince herself. 

She sits at the circulation desk, reading a dry, dull book on the history of farming when her phone lights up. She grabs it, frowning when she sees it’s a text. From John. She hesitates for a moment. John Gold  _does not_ text. It’s almost funny, given his violent protests when she’d tried to teach him once before. He’d declared it a waste of time. 

Apparently he’s changing his opinion about a lot of things lately. 

She opens the text.  _Good afternoon. Did you get my voice mail?_

She sits for about fifteen minutes debating on whether or not to reply. Once she decides that she will answer him, she types out a quick,  _yes_ , but spends about ten minutes debating on whether or not to add more to it. Finally she curses - softly, as there are children nearby - and hits send. 

Not even a minute later, her phone flashes again. 

_Okay._

She wants to throw her phone. Okay.  _Okay?_ That’s all he has to say about that ridiculous message he left her, practically pouring out his heart to her? And he says ‘okay’. She’s never been more annoyed at the man in her life, and she wants to tell him as much. But she resists. She closes her eyes, counts to ten, and goes to help one of the smaller children reach a book on a higher shelf. 

When she makes it back to her desk a minute later, her phone is flashing yet again. She opens the text, heart leaping in her throat when she reads:  _I’d like to come by the library tonight, if that’s acceptable._

She decides to test him, and can’t help but smirk as she replies.  _That’s fine. If you tell me what book you want I’ll have it ready when you get here._

He doesn’t answer her. She wants to feel victorious, as if she’s run him off, but it’s an empty victory and she hates herself a little for being so callous. He’s trying to be nice. He apologized. She knows she needs to be forgiving. Part of her desperately wants to forgive him. But she’s not quite ready yet.  

He never answers her, and part of her wonders if he’ll even come by now. She waits until five, then goes to the door and peeks out. There is no sign of him and she presses her forehead against the cool metal. She’s a fool. Locking the door, she turns to make her way to her upstairs apartment. She stops long enough to grab her book, phone, and switch off the lights before heading up the stairs. 

She’s just settling in with a cup of tea when her phone rings. It’s the ringtone she selected for John and she practically pounces on her phone. “Hello?” She cringes at the eagerness in her voice and almost misses John’s sharp intake of breath. 

“I-Isabel?” 

She tries to calm herself. “Yeah.”

He’s silent for a moment. “I…I didn’t think you’d answer.” 

She bites her lip, not sure what to say. Finally she settles for, “Well, I did.” 

“Right,” he sighs. “Um…I’m….here.” 

She blinks and tries to ignore the flutter in her stomach. “Here?” 

“Outside the library,” he clarifies, “I apologize. I know you’re closed, but I was held up by a few of my tenants. Would it be best if I came ba-” 

“No!” Isabel cries out, no longer caring how frantic or desperate she sounds. “Just wait.” 

He sounds so relieved. “All right.” 

She isn’t sure whether to hang up or not, so she keeps the phone to her ear and makes her way downstairs. The sound of his breathing on the other end of the phone is a comfort - she’s missed him more than she’s willing to admit - and races across the library floor on bare feet to reach the lock. She pulls open the door, trying her best to look casual and nonchalant, but the sight of John Gold so close to her after so long is enough to make her breath catch. 

He’s standing rigidly still, one hand on his cane, the other behind his back. Isabel stares stupidly at him for the longest while, then realizes he’s waiting for her to invite him inside. She steps aside and motions for him to enter. He takes a step, stopping in the threshold and pulls his hand from behind his back. “For you,” he says gently, offering her a long-stemmed rose, “If you’ll have it.” 

Part of her doesn’t want to take it. She’s still hurt and angry and confused about her feelings for this man, and he’s not making it any easier for her. But slowly, she takes the flower and the smile on his face when she does is enough that she wants to forgive him for everything right then and there. 

Instead, she clears her throat and asks him what book he wanted. It’s obvious he isn’t here for a book, but he goes to the classics section and returns to the front with a copy of  _The Odyssey_. Belle checks him out and does her best to give him a friendly smile. He takes the book, their fingertips brushing, and stares at her like he wants nothing more than to pull her over the counter and kiss her. She’s astonished to realize she wishes he’d actually do it. 

But he doesn’t, and she walks him to the door, keeping her hands folded behind her, wondering what’s come over her. He bids her a good night and then, after hesitating only a moment, leaves. 

Isabel shuts and locks the door, grabs her phone, the rose, and returns upstairs. She settles back onto her couch with her lukewarm tea and book, but keeps her phone clutched in her hand and lets the rose lay on the table. She’s about to give up and start reading, determined to get lost in a world that isn’t confusing and heartbreaking when her phone rings. This time she doesn’t even bother to look at who it is, instead thrusting it up to her ear, “Yes!” She sounds breathy, and it’s with great relief that it’s Gold on the other end. 

“Isabel, please-” 

“Come to the door.” 

“I’m already here.” 

She bolts out of her seat, nearly spilling her tea in the process and rushes down the stairs once more. She wrenches the door open to see John standing there, phone pressed to his ear. She pockets her phone and grabs him by the lapels and tugs him to her, lips crashing hotly against his. He spins her around and presses her against the door almost instantly, and though the handle is digging in her back, she can’t bring herself to care. She winds her arms around John, sighing as his lips move from hers down her jaw and to cover her throat. She clings to him, and he to her, and it’s such a relief to finally be back here again. 

It’s only when his hand starts moving toward her center that she regains her senses and pushes him off her. It’s gentle, but enough to cause him to stumble. She keeps her hands on his shoulders, not sure if she wants to keep pushing or pull him back to her. She needs a moment to think, with her head and not her heart, to make sure she’s not leaping head first into another mistake. 

“I’m still angry,” she manages dumbly, when she can speak again. He nods, completely understanding. 

“You have every right to be,” he agrees, “But please know I’m sorry.” 

“'Sorry’ is  great, but it doesn’t change what you did. What you said.” 

Nodding, John agrees again. “I know. But I want to prove to you that I’m sincere when I say that  _you_ are the most important thing in my life. Not power, not money, not any of it. What good is it all if, at the end of the day is go home to an empty house? My life only has meaning if you’re in it.” 

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have power, or money. All she has is the empty house, and even then it’s hardly as impressive as her ex-lover’s. But she understands the loss of something so meaningful, so necessary. She knows this break-up hasn’t only devastated her. It’s left them both lost and confused. Isabel sighs, “So what do you want?” 

Gold steps forward and Isabel lets him. He rests his hand on her waist and studies her for a long while. “A second chance,” he whispers, “Hope for forgiveness. You.” 

Isabel swallows thickly. It’s everything she wants to give him, but she’s still scared. But then she recalls her father telling her once to be brave, and that bravery will follow, and so she decides to test that theory. 

“Okay,” she says softly, her heart fluttering as Gold’s countenance lights up. “But we’re going to have some very long, very intense discussions before anything else…. happens.” 

Gold kisses her and murmurs against her mouth, “Whatever you want, my dear, you shall have.” 

She wants to settle the things between them. She wants answers, and she wants truth. She wants this man to be open with her and not lash out when she questions him. She wants him and her father to at least be civil to one another. She wants a lot of things, she thinks, but decides that for now all she wants is to kiss him senseless. So she does.


	68. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is injured while Rumple is away.

Rumple enters the hall and freezes at the sight before him. Regina, decked out in her customary and elaborate black, is using her magic to hold Belle in a choke hold. Belle is gasping for air, her face turning an alarming shade of purple as Regina shouts, “I’ll ask you once more you little wench, where is Rumplestiltskin?" 

Magic flares around him and Rumple steps forward, "Right here, dearie.” 

He sends out a burst of magic, which knocks Regina flying into his spinning wheel. Her hold on Belle ceases and the girl collapses to the ground, coughing and gasping for air desperately. Rumple uses his magic to transport and bind Regina to one of his cells; he’ll deal with her later. He lifts Belle into his arms and carries her to the chaise by the fire and lays her gently on it. Her skin is returning to it’s lovely pale shade, and her coughing has quieted. She blinks at Rumple, and smiles wearily at him.

“Hey,” she whispers, wincing as her throat protests the effort. Rumple shushes her and conjures a cup of water. He cradles her head gently as he helps her drink, and Belle sighs as the cool water refreshes her dry throat and cracked lips. 

“What happened?” Rumple asked, brushing Belle’s hair out of her face. She sighed and reached out to touch Rumple’s hand. 

“She wanted to know where you were. I didn’t tell her. Then I refused to bring her tea.” 

Chuckling, Rumple lets Belle lace their fingers together. He glances down, baffled by how pleasant it is to be held in such a way, and squeezes her hand softly. “That’s my girl,” he says with a sly grin. Belle smiles back, then turns away as she coughs. Rumple frowns and conjures a potion. “This will let you sleep,” he informs her, “You’ll be able to sleep through any pain, until I can make a potion for your your injuries.” 

Belle nods weakly and lets Rumple pour the strange smelling liquid down her throat. She yawns almost immediately and her eyes slip shut. “Thank you,” she whispers as sleep begins to overtake her. Bending over, Rumple presses a gentle kiss to her cheek. He can’t even find it in him to be flustered or embarrassed. If he hadn’t arrived when he did, Regina would have surely killed Belle. It’s a thought that makes him shudder, and in his relief that she is safe, he lets himself kiss her again. 

He stands to leave, missing the moment Belle cracks one eye open, smiling softly before she drifts off to sleep. 


	69. Sped Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle overhears Future Emma’s comment. She decides to act. Prompted by panchibust

It starts small, with gentle brushes of fingertips and hesitant touches. She stays in the workroom longer, dusting slowly so she can watch him work. He claims he’s misplaced a book in her library, and spends long minutes browsing the shelves, watching her all the while out of the corner of his eye. 

She touches his shoulders as she passes by him at the spinning wheel. He teases her relentlessly. She smiles and flutters her eyelashes and bites her lips. He gives her books and trinkets and stops calling her ‘dearie’ and starts calling her 'dear’. 

She adjusts his cravats and tells him she’ll miss him when he leaves. He lets her hug him upon his return, and shyly kisses her hand. He runs his fingers through her hair. She blushes and his heart skips beats, and though neither will admit it to the other, they wouldn’t be doing this if it hadn’t been for the blonde stranger that disrupted their life. 

Belle knows her feelings have been changing for some time. Now she knows that his feelings have changed as well. It’s a comfort to know they fall in love; it makes it so much easier for Belle to summon her courage and wrap her arms around him and let her head lean against his chest. It’s the comfort of knowing she wants him back that makes Rumple more willing to sit with her in the evenings as she curls up against him and reads aloud from one of her books. Neither comment on how her fingers trace random patterns against his leather clad thigh, or how his lips come to brush the top of her head. 

He starts taking breakfast with her, and she joins him for afternoon tea. They talk more; she tells more of her life with her father and he thrills her with tales of his deals. She asks questions, and more importantly, so does he. They get to know each other, and the more Belle learns, the more she loves. She thinks Rumple feels the same way too, as his gazes linger and his touches grow more lasting, more firm. 

He begins to initiate hugs. She presses kisses to his cheek when he goes out and when he returns. He stops calling her 'dear’ and begins to call her 'sweetheart’ and 'precious’ and they fall asleep together on the chaise near the fire on an increasingly frequent basis. 

But despite all the silent growth, neither mentions thething that brought them to this point. Rumple never admits he knows their future; they fall in love. Belle never admits she overheard the same thing. Somehow she knows he’s aware she overheard, and it’s easier for them both to silently test the waters than to plunge in head first and risk getting hurt. Just because it’s  _meant_ to happen doesn’t mean it  _will._

But it  _does_. Belle is desperately in love with him, and from the way Rumple clings to her and watches her and holds her, she knows he loves her too. She wonders if she should say the words, admit what they both know to be true. She wants to. She wants to feel the thrill of saying the words her heart beats out every time she catches a glimpse of him. She wants to see his breath catch and his eyes widen and the shape of his mouth as he slowly and unbelieving repeats the words back to her. 

 

But when she does say them, it’s completely unexpected. They’re having tea, and he’s teasing her about how she  _still_ can’t get the proper amount of sugar in his cup. She makes a face and he giggles. 

“Don’t be so put out, precious,” he teases, “It’s only a matter of time a clever girl like you figures it out.” 

“I love you.” 

She doesn’t see his reaction because she’s too busy staring at her hands, trying to comprehend why on earth she blurted out the words in the most unromantic of ways. She’s so shocked, she doesn’t hear the scratch of his chair being pushed back, nor the echoing clack of his boots on the stone floor. She does, however, feel his hands on her waist as he turns her to face him. She sees the curve of his lips slide upward and feels the warmth that radiates off him as he presses her against the table. 

“Belle,” he breathes, and her name has never sounded so delicious. Rumple presses a kiss to her cheek, then peppers them down her jaw, before stopping at her lips, his own a mere breath away. “I love you too.”

They kiss then, and Belle is swept up in the glory that is his love for her. He holds her tight, one hand keeping her pressed to him while the other cradles the back of her head, tilting her to the best angle to perfectly devour her lips. 

When at last he releases her lips, she lets out a breathy sigh, “A miracle, indeed.” 

He blinks, then smirks wickedly. “So you heard.” 

Belle nods, and presses lazy kisses over her love’s cheek and jaw. “I did,” she whispers, letting her hands weave in his curls, “And it gave me hope.”

“I couldn’t believe it,” he sighs, pressing closer to her and nuzzling her with his forehead, “I still can’t, despite the rather pleasant evidence.” 

“Well, believe it,” Belle whispers as she meets Rumple’s eyes, “Because I’m not going anywhere.” 

He kisses her again, and Belle’s entire world fades until all that’s left is the man wrapped around her. He makes her shiver with his cool breath on her throat, and makes her burn with his warm kisses searing her skin. She’s never felt so much at once. It’s too much, and not enough, and she’s bursting at the seams with love for this man. 

She distantly recalls a time when she proclaimed that no one decided her fate but her. She then wonders if the girl from the future accidentally revealing what comes to pass between them counts as her fate already being decided for her. She begins to dwell on the possibility. She was influenced by the knowledge that it happens. But she was already aware of her feelings. It’s a confusing situation, and it’s enough to give Belle a headache. 

But then Rumple begins to trail hot kisses down her throat and begins to play with the ties of her bodice. She sighs and reaches out to undo his vest, eager to feel his skin against her. As Rumple pulls off her dress and she begins to work on the fastening of his pants, Belle decides that her fate wasn’t decided for her. It was just sped up a little. 


	70. Indecent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get caught at a drive-in. Prompted by phantomxrose

“So we just sit in the car and watch a film?” Belle asked as Rumple shut off the Cadallic. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face Belle. 

“Exactly,” he said, reaching over to unbuckle her as well.

Belle smiled, the delights of this new world still surprising her, and turned toward the backseat to pull out the bottles of water, chocolate, and popcorn they brought with them. She slipped off her shoes, tucking them underneath and and began to eat as she watched the images flash on the giant screen before them. 

It turned out the movie was incredibly dull. Rumple had no interest in the pointless action and violence, and Belle was finding the plot terribly contrived and poorly done. They spent a while making fun of the characters, scenes, and story, both finding more amusement with each other than the movie itself. 

After a while, Belle grew tired of poking fun and suggested they return home. Rumple brought his hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt. “You mean you’re not enjoying our date?” He asked in mock pain. 

Belle giggled. “I’m enjoying you,” she clarified, “But I can think of a much better way to do that than sitting in the car watching a silly film.” 

He looked at her, eyes hooded, “What do you have in mind?” 

Belle leaned over and pressed her lips to his. He sighed against her, and Belle suddenly felt warm and flushed. His lips moved languidly against hers, and Belle shivered as he pressed further, teeth and tongue doing things to her that made her dizzy. 

She pulled away after a moment, the seat belt holder digging into her hip. Rumple seemed to understand, and reached out, pulling Belle over so that she straddled him. She laughed outright, then squealed when her back hit the steering wheel, making the horn blast. 

She looked horrified, but Rumple merely grabbed the lever at his side and pushed the seat back, then reclined it so Belle was half lying on top of him. She smiled, and began to trail kisses along his neck while he ran his fingers teasingly along her thighs. 

Their lips met once more, and Belle reached up to undo his tie when someone knocked on the door, followed immediately by a cry of disgust. Rumple and Belle froze, and Rumple moved the seat upright and rolled down the window. Peering out, he frowned at the sight of his son and Miss Swan, who both looked completely scandalized. 

Belle flushed and ducked her head into the crook of Rumple’s neck. Emma was staring with mouth agape and Neal looked like he wanted to strangle his father. 

“We heard the horn and just wanted to make sure everything was….okay,” Neal said, looking annoyed. 

“We’re okay, son,” Gold said, wrapping an arm around Belle’s waist protectively. “Though the movie’s a tad dull.” 

Neal backed away with a sigh and pulled on Emma’s hand. “Then go home,” he said dryly, “Some of us don’t need the mental image of you two going at it in their heads.” 

“And I could totally arrest you for public indecency,” Emma added on. Rumple chuckled. 

“No one is indecent, Miss Swan,” Rumple countered before adding, “At least not yet.” 

Groaning, Neal and Emma turned and rushed away and Rumple rolled the window up. Belle lifted her head and glared at him. Rumple chuckled, and moved her over to the passenger seat. “What are you doing?” She asked curiously, her cheeks still flaming red. 

Rumple buckled his own seat belt, “Taking you home,” he said as she started the car. 

Belle leaned over and pressed a kiss to Rumple’s jaw. “How fast can you get us home?” She asked as she continued to kiss him, “Without magic or breaking the law?” 

Gold sped out of the drive-in. “The Sheriff is otherwise occupied, sweetheart,” Rumple smirked, “And I’ve got a beautiful woman with whom I’d like nothing more than to get…indecent with.” 

Belle blinked in surprise at his forwardness. Usually he wasn’t so blunt with his intentions, but she realized with a flush that she liked it. Grinning, she rested her hand on his thigh, “Then step on it." 


	71. Next Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle sleeps naked. So does Rumple, when he’s drunk. Prompted by repeatinglitanies.

It was nice to have a room to herself, Belle thought idly as she ran a hand over the gorgeous vanity she’d been gifted with. Even though the room was only furnished the the basic necessities, it was certainly better than the dungeon, which had been dark, cold, and damp. Here, it was warm and cozy. The fire blazed in the hearth, and the lovely maroon curtains were tied back to let in natural light. She felt at home, like she belonged here. 

She’d only occupied this room for a week, but already it was easy to fall into old habits from the life before. She combed and braided her hair before the large fire, sighing contentedly as the heat of the flames warmed her all over. When she was finished, she pulled off her nightgown and folded it before placing it at the foot of her bed. At home she had never slept in clothing. The nights were always hot, especially with the fire, and she had always been more comfortable naked than in the elaborate and often uncomfortable nightgowns she’d been afforded. She enjoyed the freedom and the feeling of cool silk on her bear skin. It was a luxury she hadn’t thought she’d know again, but things were changing around here, and now she was living a life much better than she had ever imagined she would. 

She pulled the covers up to her chin, settling comfortably against the silk that surrounded her and sighed. It was such a wonderful feeling, and it whisked her off to sleep. 

~000~

Rumplestiltskin groaned and stood on unstable legs. It had been a horrible day, and he’d decided to drown his frustrations in whiskey until he couldn’t see straight. He staggered forward, knowing he would need a hangover potion come morning, but for now he simply wanted to sleep. 

He made his way upstairs, walking aimlessly and blindly in his drunken state. Upon entering his room, he groaned and smacked his hand to cover his eyes, the light from the now dim fire too much for him to stand. Grumbling, he put it out with a wave of his other hand, sighing in relief when the room flooded with darkness. He stumbled forward, pulling off his boots and pants as he went, then reached for his wardrobe to pull out a nightshirt. 

He frowned when his hand grasped at nothing. “When did I move my wardrobe?” He murmured to himself in confusion, then decided he was far too drunk to care. He yanked off his shirt and vest and decided that one night sleeping in the nude wouldn’t be so bad. 

He crawled into the bed, wondering idly why the sheets felt warmer than normal, but quickly fell into a heavy, drunken sleep. 

~000~

Rumple’s eyes blinked open, and he bit back a groan. His head was pounding and he felt absolutely retched. Knowing he needed a hangover potion  _now_ he shifted to get out of bed, but a strange weight on his chest made him freeze. 

Glancing down, Rumple’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of Belle - his sweet, innocent little maid - lying  _naked_ on top of him. He slammed his eyes shut, then slowly opened them again, only to see her still there, breathing steadily. He gasped, and she shifted slightly, the movement knocking away the sheets and leaving her exposed to him. He bit back a groan, and tried to ignore the slight throbbing between his legs as he carefully lifted the sheet to cover her once more. 

Shutting his eyes, he tried to remember the night before, but could only recall blurry instances of him stumbling about. “How drunk was I?” He whispered, though if he allowed himself to think through the haze and pain, this was not such a terrible way to find oneself first thing in the morning. He knew he cared for the girl, and though he had no memory of it, apparently she shared his feelings, if their current state could account for anything.

  
He dared not move now, for fear of disturbing her. But he was going to have to do something, he thought dazedly. He looked around, surprised at the realization that he wasn’t even in his chambers, but  _hers_. Had she taken advantage of his drunken state to bring him here? Could Belle be capable of such a thing?  He could hardly believe it, even if he was very aware of how affectionate his pretty maid was of late.  

Deciding there was nothing for it - for he needed to know what occurred between them - he gently shook her awake. She blinked, then lifted her head up to smile sleepily at him. A moment later, she seemed to register where she was and who she was with, and let out a horrified scream. She jumped away from him, pulling the covers over her chest and looked at him in alarm. 

“Why are you naked!” 

He grabbed his head, her shouts not helping his current situation and reached with his other hand to cover himself as well. He propped himself up on one elbow and glanced at her in confusion. “Did we not-?” He gestured helplessly between them. 

Belle blanched. “No!” She declared shrilly, then paused to collect herself, realizing quickly that he had as little an idea of what happened as she did. “No, Rumple, I didn’t see you at all last night.”

“Oh.” 

She watched him for a moment, then moved closer, clutching the sheet to her chest. “What happened to you that you don’t remember anything?” 

He groaned and fell back against her pillow. “Too much whiskey,” he groaned.

Out of all her possible reactions, he didn’t expect Belle to giggle. “Well, it seems you either like to cuddle when you’re drunk, or you just wandered in here by mistake.” 

He rolled onto his stomach, both in a desire to block out the light and to hide his complete embarrassment and arousal. He turned his head slightly to look at her, then pressed his nose into the pillow with a groan. Of  _course_ his beautiful maid would sleep naked. “Bloody nice mistake, though,” he grumbled softly, still not sober enough to fully control his tongue. 

Belle bit her lip to keep her smile at bay. It was true she hadn’t anticipated waking up in the arms of the Dark One, but now that she had, she couldn’t deny it had been nice. Laying down on her side, she moved so her head was sharing his pillow. She reached out and let her hand rest on his bare back, and noticed the shiver that ran over him. “But next time it happens, you might wake me up first so I’m not scared out of my wits come morning, hmm?” 

He groaned at the thought. Next time? Not only was she not kicking him out, but she would allow it to happen in the future? It was a pleasant thought, one that went straight to his groin, and he turned his head to look at her again. She was smiling at him, still naked, though she’d pulled the sheet up to her chin. He reached out to touch her cheek. “Next time I’d rather be sober.” 

She flushed, her eyes wide, and he realized belatedly that his tongue was still far too loose. He opened his mouth to apologize, but then Belle giggled, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “I think I’d prefer that, too." 


	72. Defy the Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple can’t stand the thought of life without Belle.

He sent her to get straw. It was supposed to be a simple task, just to town and back. It shouldn’t have taken her more than half a day, but it was reaching nightfall, and Belle was not home. She left early that morning, as she did once a month, to go to town. It was a habit now, to fetch him straw in town, and Rumple knew just how long it took her to accomplish the task. But now he paced near the tower window, the very placed he’d waited patiently for her to return the first time he let her go. She came back then; surely after everything she wouldn’t choose now to leave? Not when she knew it would surely break his heart. 

When the sun faded behind the trees, Rumple made a decision. He summoned a small hand mirror, and spoke Belle’s name to it. He didn’t like using mirrors, not when Regina was so fond of spying with them, but Belle had been gone far too long, and a mix of fear she had left him and terror that she might be hurt were growing strong. When the mirror’s foggy state cleared, Rumple’s terror was confirmed. Belle was lying unconscious on the ground, just off the road, soaked in blood. 

He was at her side in an instant, looking horrified as he took in the sight of his beloved. She was scratched to pieces, and there was a large chunk of flesh ripped from her arm, which was no longer bleeding, but now looked infected. Rumple rolled Belle onto her side, relieved when she coughed slightly, and looked up at Rumple through bloodshot, weary eyes. “You came,” she whispered, before her head rolled to the side, and she was unconscious once more. 

Saying nothing, Rumple pulled her into his arms, and magicked them to his room. He summoned potions and balms and hot water, and sent a burst of magic to the hearth where a fire sprang to life. Belle’s skin was icy, and Rumple knew he needed to act fast. He concentrated on helping her, on being useful. He stripped her naked, a sight he was only just getting familiar with, and gently cleaned all the blood and grime off her small, tortured body. She sighed and whimpered when he moved her, but he only shushed her, and spoke softly as he worked, telling her what he was doing and how it would help. 

“This is a balm,” he explained as he gently spread it over one of the deeper scratches on her leg. She groaned in pain, and he reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothed, “But it’ll help in the end, I swear it. You just lie still now, and let me take care of you.” 

He worked diligently for a long time, making sure every scratch and bite was properly cleaned and bandaged. At length, he finished, breathing a sigh of relief as he noticed Belle had slipped into a deep sleep, her breathing even. She looked peaceful, despite the bruises and scratches that covered her face. He would wait until she woke to find out exactly what happened, though he was certain he already knew what attacked her: wolves. 

They weren’t common in this area, but they were still present. It crossed Rumple’s mind to go after the vile creatures and rip them apart, but then Belle sighed, and brought Rumple back from his dark, vengeful thoughts. He moved closer and pressed a kiss to her temple, which earned him a sleepy smile. “I’ll be right back, love,” he said softly, “I’m going to fetch you some soup, and tea. And perhaps some books to entertain you when you wake. Be good and sleep for me now, though.” 

She said nothing, and Rumple sighed as he stepped out of the room. He walked down the hallway, stopping at the door to the library. It struck him then, the image of his Belle being mauled by those horrid creatures, crying out in fear and pain as she fought them off. Anger boiled in his chest and he lurched forward, slamming his fist into the door, punching it with stifled grunts until he slammed his fist through the thick wood. He stood, breathing ragged, as he absently took in the damage he’d done. The door was easily fixable, as was his hand, which was bloody and, if the throbbing pain was any indication, broken. 

He did nothing to fix either his hand or door at first, instead choosing to slide to the ground amidst the splintered wood. Bringing his other hand to his face, he let the tears fall, as he thought of just how frightened his Belle must have been. The sight of her lying face down in the dirt, pretty blue dress and lovely porcelain skin marred by blood was the most frightening sight he’d seen in all his years. It was his deepest fear, to lose Belle. They overcame so much to be together: her family, Regina, and even his own cowardice. But a pack of mangy wolves had been what almost took her from him. And the thought of a life without Belle was not a life he wanted to envision. But it played out in his mind, and he was powerless to stop it, even though he had the comfort of knowing she was just down the hall. 

It was still too real, the thought that he had been so close to losing her. With another tear-filled sob, he stood, absently healing the door and his hand. He couldn’t care for her if his hand was broken. He opened the door to the library and stepped inside, scanning the room for an open or marked book. There would be time to fret later, he decided firmly. He couldn’t be weak now. Not when Belle needed him most. So he instead put his thoughts toward being useful. When he’d gathered all the things he thought she would want and need, he returned to his room to find her still sleeping peacefully. It calmed him some, to see her there, and he deposited everything carelessly on the vanity in favor of crawling onto the bed and curling up next to Belle. 

She shifted and smiled in her sleep, and Rumple sighed. He’d been so close to losing her, but as he lay on his side, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath, he knew that somehow, they’d once again defied the odds. 


	73. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can read his mind, and is quite shocked by what she hears.

The potion was sticky, warm, and tingling on her skin. Belle groaned in annoyance and trudged over to the supply closet in Rumple’s work room and retrieved a cloth, wiping at the potion that now covered her from head to toe. She hadn’t meant to bump into the shelf, but Rumple was a messy creature and left things scattered all over his tower floor. She hadn’t noticed the quiver on the ground - how could she when it was half covered with a bloody invisibility cloak? - and had caught her balance against the shelf, causing one bottle to teeter over the edge and douse her with the strange smelling, pink liquid. Sighing, she wiped at her face and arms. 

“I suppose I should be grateful that only  _one_ potion got on me,” she said exasperatedly. She’d have to tell Rumple at some point what happened. Then it occurred to her that she had no idea what this potion did. She froze, panic sweeping over her as she took a moment to mentally check herself. Her skin prickled, and her head ached some, but otherwise she felt no strange effects from whatever was covering her. She supposed that was another bit of good luck on her part, and decided that unless she started to notice anything truly bizarre, she could wait to bring up her slight mishap. Rumple had enough on his mind, she thought idly. He didn’t need to worry about his maid’s clumsiness. 

 

After washing herself off in her room and changing dresses, Belle carried on the rest of her day as normal. She paused occasionally to see if she felt any different, pleased yet slightly worried when she didn’t notice any change. Her head still throbbed slightly, but she ignored it, as it was only a small ache. When she finished her chores, she moved to the library, intent to simply sit and read until Rumplestiltskin returned later that evening. 

She was on the last chapter of her book when Rumplestiltskin returned. Reluctant to stop when she was so close to the conclusion, but eager to see the man she had grown terribly fond of over the months, Belle, marked her place and rose to greet Rumple at the steps of the library. She paused, however when she heard his voice, as clearly as if he were beside her say,  _“Where is she? I want nothing more than to see my beautiful Belle.”_

“I’m here, Rumple!” She called out, sweeping down the stairs in excitement. He wanted to see her? He thought her beautiful? Her heart fluttered at the thought of him wanting her, and she had to bite her lips to keep her smile from spreading too far. 

Rumple turned when she rounded the corner and offered her an amused look. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited to see me,” he teased. 

Belle opened her mouth to respond, then paused as she heard, “ _Please say you are. I would give anything to know you’re happy to see me.”_

She blinked, staring at him in confusion. He clearly had not spoken the words aloud, but she heard them, as plain as anything. She stared, which in turn made his brows crease in worry. He said nothing, but she heard, quite distinctly, “ _I’ve upset her. Damn it all! Why must I ruin everything?”_

Shaking her head slightly, Belle stepped forward. Taking his hand in hers, she smiled up at him. “I  _am_ happy to see you,” she said softly, “You’ll have to forgive me. I was dozing and I think I’m still a little slow from sleep.” It was a smooth lie, and a part of her felt despaired that it came out so easily, but this was a strange thing, one she was uncertain she wanted Rumple to know about just yet. She noticed him glance down at their still entwined hands. His face was expressionless, but she heard a soft voice, full of awe. 

“ _How can she bear to touch me? How can she smile at a monster?”_

“You’re not a monster,” she said instinctively, silently cursing herself when he gave her a strange look. 

“I said nothing about being a monster, dearie,” he said curiously, and she knew it was true. He hadn’t said it. He  _thought_ it. The realization dawned on her that she was reading Rumpelstiltskin’s thoughts - and he had no idea. It was both exciting and terrifying. 

“I know,” she said simply, trying her best to figure out how to cover her slip up. She thought hard for a moment, then explained, “It’s just you have such a habit of referring yourself as such I thought I might take some initiative and say you aren’t before you ever get the chance to speak the words.” 

He regarded her curiously for a moment, then chuckled. “ _My sweet girl,”_ he thought, and Belle felt her cheeks warm, “ _What have I done to deserve your kindness?”_

She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else, and stepped back from him. “I’m glad you’re back,” she said with a smile, “But I have less than a chapter to go in my book and I’m dying to know how it ends. Can we meet in an hour for tea? I’d love to hear about your day."  

He waved her away, "Go on, dear,” he said, “I’ll be spinning.” He turned and walked away.  _“Perhaps then I’ll be able to stop thinking about her,”_ he thought, and Belle could feel the desperation in the words, “ _Perhaps I can stop entertaining ideas that she might care for me.”_

Pain settled in Belle’s chest at his words. A small part of her wanted to chase after him, but she knew that would be foolish. She needed to think, and so she retreated up the steps to her library to do just that. 

She sat on her chaise, book clutched in her hand. It was merely a protective measure, in case Rumple appeared for some unexplained reason. Belle had read this book before, and so she knew how it ended. All the better to spend the time she’d given herself to figure out what to do. That potion clearly allowed her to hear Rumpelstiltskin’s thoughts. She pursed her lips. Could he hear hers? She decided she would experiment with that when she joined him for tea. But, other than that, what was she to do? On one hand, she reasoned, this would be a perfect chance to truly get to know Rumplestiltskin. To learn more effectively what he meant when he said certain things, and to know what he truly thought of himself - and her. She blushed at that thought. His thoughts had been so self-deprecating, but so kind to her. Did he harbor feelings for her as she did him? It seemed, so, but Belle was still unsure of how deep those feelings went. 

However, she thought, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, hearing his thoughts without him being aware was an invasion of privacy. She knew she would be upset if he secretly read her thoughts. Groaning, she leaned her head back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. What was she going to do? 

When she ventured downstairs a few minutes later, Rumple was at his spinning wheel, working furiously. She paused a moment to watch him, and a moment later, his thoughts entered her head at full force. 

_“I don’t know why I’m even fooling myself. She is only here because of a deal. I know if I released her she would be gone without a moment’s hesitation. I should let her go. It’s not right to keep her here like this.”_

Belle blinked. The thought of him releasing her had never crossed her mind. And now that it was there, she didn’t like it. She had to admit the concept of being able to come and go as she pleased was an appealing one, but she had no desire to leave the Dark Castle. In the months since she’d arrived, she had truly come to consider the place her home. She shut her eyes and willed herself to think,  _“Rumple, if you can hear me, turn around. I don’t want to leave you. Please turn around. I’m right here.”_

She peeked out of one eye, dismayed when he was still facing the wheel, spinning just as furiously as he had before. He couldn’t hear her. Disappointment welled inside her, and she sagged against the door frame. He continued to think, unaware that she was present and able to hear his thoughts as clearly as if he were shouting them throughout the halls. She listened as his thoughts wandered to his son, and she felt despair and love in the words he whispered to himself. His thoughts wandered back to her after a while, and Belle felt another wave of guilt wash over her as she listened to him. 

_“I wish I didn’t feel this way,”_ he sighed wearily to himself,  _“I wish I couldn’t feel so strongly for her. She’s kind, and affectionate, to be sure, but she could never love me as I do her. I’m a fool to even hope for anything more.”_

Belle gasped. He loved her? Her own heart fluttered wildly in her chest. He loved her. She stepped forward, eager to return the affection to him. He turned at that moment, and offered her one of his playful grins. “There you are,” he said teasingly, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d started another book.” 

She stopped in her tracks, and the moment was lost. He didn’t know she knew. She forced herself to smile, to pretend as if she hadn’t just learned the depth of his feelings for her. “No,” she said, her voice squeaking as she tried to control herself, “No I didn’t start another book.” 

Rumple waved his hand and a tea tray appeared on the table next to them. She sat down, very much aware of how close he was behind her. Her skin felt tingly, as it had when the potion spilled on her that morning, but she knew this was another kind of magic. He sat down next to her and began to prepare his cup of tea, his mind surprisingly and pleasantly quiet. Belle sank in her chair slightly, relieved that for a small moment, he wasn’t overwhelming her mind with long-kept secrets. He noticed her and frowned. 

“Are you all right?” He asked as he poured a cup of tea for her. “You haven’t been yourself since I returned.” 

She sat up quickly at that and accepted the cup from him gratefully. “I’m fine,” she lied, “I just have a lot on my mind.” 

His brow creased in worry, and his thoughts entered her mind at an alarming rate, worried if he’d done something to upset her, or if she were ill, or homesick. His concern was sweet, and Belle couldn’t help but to lean over the table and press a kiss to his cheek. 

He froze, his mind once again blank, and she smiled at him. “I’ll make you a deal,” she said as he stared at her in surprise, “You tell me about your day, and I’ll tell you about mine.” 

He nodded once, slowly, then leaned back as he began to tell her about the many deals he made. An easiness settled over his mind, and Belle smiled as she listened to him talk. She didn’t know how he would react to her reveal that she spilled a potion that allowed her to know his thoughts - to know he loved her. But as he spoke and she listened to his words, both spoken and secret, she knew he wouldn’t be upset when she revealed that not only did she know he loved her, but that she loved him, too. 


	74. Where It Belongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple endeavors to rescue Belle’s heart.

The Belle he knew wouldn’t look at him as if he were a monster, fit to be slayed. The Belle he knew wouldn’t read two pages of a book, then toss it aside as if it were trash. The Belle he knew wouldn’t admit to killing a man with ease and disinterest. 

But this wasn’t Belle. Not  _his_ Belle, at least. This Belle was dry, humorless, and lacked affection. She’d only been locked in the queen’s tower for three months, but the damage that had been done to her seemed irreparable. 

Rumple watched her from a distance, as she wondered absently around his work room, picking up items, handling them carelessly, then dropping them back on the table. She walked without grace or poise, and seemed bored by the things that once captured her undivided attention. 

At length, Rumple grew tired of her behavior and pulled her to him, spinning her around to face him. “What happened to you in that tower, sweetheart?” He asked desperately, “What did that bitch to do you?” 

He’d asked her once before, but she hadn’t responded. Now she looked torn, and the tears that welled in her eyes were the first sign of emotion Rumple had seen from her since her return. 

“Help me,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and placing it over her breast, “I can’t feel.” 

His hand lingered only a moment before he stumbled away. He stared at her, frowning when the cold demeanor that she’d worn since he found her returned and she made some hateful comment about his untidiness. He said nothing in reply, instead staring down at his hand. His hand had been over her heart, and he’d felt  _nothing_. 

Belle’s heart was gone. Memories flooded his mind of the last time he encountered someone without a heart. Cora had removed her heart because she valued power over her love for him. Now Belle, his True Love, was missing her heart and the pain he felt once over two decades ago now returned full force. 

His only comfort was that Belle hadn’t chosen this. She’d managed to ask him for help, and he knew exactly what he needed to do. 

He needed to pay the Evil Queen a visit. 

~000~

He appeared in her bedroom, magic swirling at his fingertips. He should kill her for his. Regina turned idly, looking at him with pure amusement. “Well, well,” she said dryly, “What brings you here? I thought you’d be prostrate before your ‘twu luv’ begging for forgiveness.” 

He lunged forward, pinning her to the wall behind her. “Where is it?” He hissed. Regina blinked, not used to such raw anger in her former master’s eyes, but she quelled her fear. 

“Where is what?” She asked, feigning innocence. 

“Her heart,” Rumple snapped, teeth barred menacingly, “What did you do with her heart?” 

“Oh, that’s right,” Regina said smugly, even as Rumple pressed her harder against the wall, the rough stones digging into her back, “I  _did_ remove it.” 

“I want it.” 

“We all want things, Rumple,” Regina said 

 

“Yes,” Rumple agreed, “I want to rip you limb from limb for one.” He grabbed her throat and dug his claws into Regina’s flesh. She whimpered at the pain, and Rumple smiled menacingly. “There,” he said, “Now how about a deal? You give me Belle’s heart, and I leave you in one piece?” 

His pressed harder, and Regina squeaked, “Fine.” 

Rumple let her go, and Regina waved her hand, producing a small box. She thrust it into Rumple’s hands and sneered, “Wasn’t much fun anyway.” 

Instead of replying, Rumple vanished in a cloud of smoke. He had more important things to do than rise to Regina’s bait. He needed to save Belle. 

~000~

When he returned, Belle was sitting on the floor, curled up around herself. She looked miserable and Rumple swallowed thickly. It was because of his foolishness that she’d lost her heart. Bile rose in his throat as he thought of his Belle, who was kind and good, existing without her heart. It was a terrible fate, he believed, and so he went to her side, eager to end her suffering once and for all. 

She looked up at him as he knelt beside her. He opened the box, and Belle, his curious Belle, peeked inside. Tears welled in her eyes once more as she recognized what was inside, and she looked up at him with awe. “How did you get it?” 

“I made a deal,” he murmured, setting down the box and removing the heart. Belle placed a hand on his arm.

“What did you do?” 

He shrugged, running his hands over her heart gently. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I’d give anything just to have you back.” 

“I feel so empty,” she sighed, “Regina was using my heart. I could hear her talking to me. Making me cruel and cold but I couldn’t say anything. I feel so violated.” 

Rumple momentarily considered going back and killing Regina for what she’d done to Belle. But then Belle reached out her hand to cover his, which was still pressed against her heart. “I can barely feel my love for you,” she said softly, “It’s there, I know it is, but it’s weak. And I hate it. I know you don’t love me, but please, I can’t bear not loving you. Please put it back.” 

Rumple stood, bringing Belle along with him. He wrapped the hand not holding her heart around her waist, and pulled her close to him. “I _do_ love you,” he said softly, lifting her heart to her chest, “So very much.” 

He pressed his lips to hers, then shoved his hand into her chest. She cried out, slumping against Rumple as pain overwhelmed her. He held her still, keeping his hand in her chest until he felt her heart connect to its rightful place. He whispered a spell to keep her heart protected from ever being removed again, then carefully removed his hand. 

Belle was still leaning against him, and he wound his fingers in her hair, holding her close to him. He rocked her as she got used to the wave of emotions that coursed through her, shushing her gently as she began to cry. “It’s over,” he whispered softly, “You’re heart is where it belongs.  _You_ are where you belong.” 

She nodded against him, too overcome with feeling to do anything else. At length she wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed in contentment. “I love you,” she whispered gently, “I feel my heart may burst with love.” 

He smiled at her words. “I hope it doesn’t,” he said teasingly, “I just got it back for you.” 

She giggled, then moved away so she could look at him. “It’s yours,” she said, “I may carry it,” she said, “But my heart is yours, if you’ll have it.” 

“Only if you’ll have mine,” he replied and she laughed and kissed him. 

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted."


	75. Change His Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle knows how to influence the Dark One.

“No.” 

The villager’s eyes widened and he began to sputter. 

“Please, sir, this horse is all I can give you! I have nothing else!” 

Rumple shrugged, unmoved by the man’s plight. “And that’s hardly my problem,” he said as he crossed his arms, staring disdainfully at the man before him. “I made my conditions clear, and it was  _not_ for a-” 

“Oh, what a lovely horse!” Rumple turned around, as did the villager pleading with Rumplestiltskin. Belle stepped forward, setting her basket on the ground so she could stroke the horse’s mane. “He’s lovely,” Belle gushed to the villager, “What do you call him?” 

“Oh…um…Phillipe, ma'am,” the villager said, looking at the Dark One nervously. Rumple rolled his eyes. 

“Belle,” he said, his tone gentle but firm, “I’m in the middle of a deal.” 

Belle’s eyes lit up. “Are you dealing for the horse!” She asked in excitement, “I used to ride when I was a girl. I’ve missed it terribly.” She turned to the villager and smiled sweetly, “It’s so kind of you to offer your horse.” The man stared at her in confusion, and Belle stepped around to face him. 

“How terribly rude,” she said as she wiped her hands on her skirts, “I’m Belle, the Caretaker of the Dark Castle.” She held out her hand and the man took it hesitantly, shaking her hand as he kept his eye on the Dark One. 

“You’re the caretaker?” He said in slight amazement. Belle nodded. 

“Oh yes,” she said, as she glanced back and smiled at Rumpelstiltskin sweetly, “And you will have nothing to fear. I will make sure Phillipe is well cared for.” She pressed her cheek against the horse, then blinked up at Rumple innocently. “Has he signed the contract yet?” 

Rumple stared at her, jaw dropped in amazement. It wouldn’t look good if he informed her that he had no intentions of taking the mangy beast, but she looked half in love with the creature, and if there was one thing the Dark One could not do, it was deny his caretaker anything. 

Sighing dramatically, Rumple produced a contract and held it out for the man to sign. “Hurry,” he snapped, “Before I regret this.” 

The man rushed forward and signed his name on the line. Rumple made the contract vanish, then snapped his fingers. “There,” he said, “Your farm is healthy and thriving once more. Belle,” he said, turning his gaze to the girl cooing over the horse, “Come.” 

With that, Rumple turned and stalked away. Belle took Phillipe’s reigns, stepped forward and smiled at the man. “He can be so frustrating sometimes,” she said softly, “Thankfully I’ve mastered the art of changing his mind.” The man turned to look at her, aghast, and Belle winked before gently tugging on the reigns and leading Phillipe up the path, toward his new home. 


	76. Barren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be a curse; it’s not.

“So what did she do to me?” 

Belle sat on the work bench in Rumple’s tower, legs swinging absently as she watched him work. Rumple’s brow was creased in puzzlement, studying the vials he had lined up. Each one had liquid and a strand of her hair inside. Rumple made a sound, then stood from his kneeling position and picked up the third vial from the right. 

“You sure you want to know, sweetheart?” 

Belle nodded. Regina had kept her locked in a tower for months, taking turns taunting her and threatening her with curses of all sorts. It was only when Rumple had discovered her that she made good on her threats and forced a sickeningly bitter potion down her throat. Rumple had been trying for weeks since their reunion to find out what Regina had done, and now it seemed they had an answer. 

“She made you barren.” 

Belle blinked, surprised when she felt….nothing. “Oh,” she whispered, “That’s it?” 

Rumple looked hurt at her words, but turned and said nothing. Instead he busied himself on cleaning up the other vials and said, “Yes, that appears to be all.” 

“Why would she do that?” Belle asked, more to herself than to him. “I was never going to be in a position to have children anyway.” 

Rumple looked up at her, eyes full of sorrow. “Never?” 

She sat for a moment, then looked up as realization dawned on her. “Oh. Rumple, I-” 

“It’s all right,” he said dismissively, “Who would want a child with a monster?” 

“That’s not it,” she said, hopping off the table and moving closer to him, “I didn’t think you wanted me. And at any rate, you’re looking for your son. Even in my wildest dreams, I never allowed myself to think of us with a child because I was afraid you’d feel like you were betraying Baelfire by having another.” 

Rumple nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words. “I never imagined I’d have the opportunity to worry about another child,” he admitted, “I didn’t think anyone would ever willingly get close enough to me to entertain the idea.” 

“I confess I never wanted to have a child,” Belle admitted, “Though mostly that was out of fear that I’d end up becoming nothing more than some man’s brood mare.” 

Rumple chuckled, “You’re  _anything_  but that,” he said affectionately. 

“But I think I’d like to have your child, if you wanted another one.” 

The look her gave her was full of love, and he hugged her close, grateful that he’d been given another chance with her. The image of her swelled with his child entered his mind and he groaned and buried his face in her hair. 

“I want a child with you,” he admitted with a sigh, “But first I must find  _my_ son.” 

Belle hummed in delight. “I can wait.” 

“I can remove the curse,” he said after a moment, “If you give me an hour to brew the potion.” 

Belle shook her head and wound her arms around Rumple’s waist. “Let’s leave it for now,” she said into his chest. Rumple glanced down curiously at her. Who would want to keep such a curse? 

Seeming to understand his confusion, Belle raised up and smiled wickedly at him. “The way I see it,” she said, “We’ve missed out on a lot of time together. And I fully intend on making up for lost time. I want you, Rumplestiltskin. And if I have a barren curse that can be lifted at any point, why not take advantage of the fact that right now, I can’t produce a child?” 

Rumple blinked, then laughed long and hard before sweeping her into his arms. “I like the way you think, sweetheart,” he said with a sly grin. “Perhaps this curse of Regina’s isn’t such a bad thing after all.” 

“You might even have to thank her,” Belle said with a giggle. Rumple glared. 

“You’re not funny,” he said dryly as he swept them to his bedroom. 


	77. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s warm, as she should be.

Maurice wipes his eyes with a handkerchief as he stares at his daughter’s peaceful expression. Beside him stands other members of his court, all dressed in black as they mourn the Lady who gave herself up for them. Slowly, those present begin to disperse, until at last it is only Maurice who remains in the mausoleum with his only child. 

He leans over the glass coffin pressing his swollen face against it as he looks down upon his daughter. She looks so lovely, he thinks, as if she were merely sleeping. Sighing, Maurice stands upright, letting his hand trace over the glass. It’s tradition to place the deceased of his family in the mausoleum, but Maurice feels it cruel to hide his daughter away. Instead he had commissioned a coffin of glass so he could visit his daughter, and allow her beauty to comfort him. She looks like her mother, Maurice thinks as he steps away from the coffin. Beautiful and kind, Belle had truly been her mother’s child, and Maurice feels the bitter pang of his heart cracking as he thinks of a life without his wife and child. At least when she had been Rumplestiltskin’s servant she had been alive, Maurice thinks bitterly. At least then he had known there was a chance of seeing her again. She had been safe, with the most powerful creature in the realm. 

But something happened, and that wretched Queen had delivered her to him, claiming she had been poisoned and there was nothing to be done. The woman in black said his daughter had done it herself, but if Maurice knew one thing, it was that his daughter would never take her own life. And he can’t find it in him to believe it was Rumplestiltskin either. He had dealt for her, specifically, and Maurice cannot fathom a reason why the monster would demand his daughter only to kill her four months later. No, something else happened, and whatever it was, it had left his daughter dead and Maurice heartbroken. 

With one last glance, he exits the mausoleum, wishing with all his might that he could bring his daughter back to life. 

~000~

Rumplestiltskin holds his breath, waiting until the heavy door to the mausoleum shuts. Once it is, he steps forward, casting a small spell to light the room. He approaches the glass coffin, his breath catching as he lays eyes upon his former caretaker lying still underneath it. She looks lovely, he thinks, even as tears blur his vision. Her dress is a deep purple, long and velvet, and makes her pale skin look practically alabaster against the dim light. 

He kneels beside her resting place, claw-like fingers gripping at the smooth surface as he weeps, cursing himself for sending her away. Had he kept her with him, she would have been sparred this wretched fate. He could have saved her, if only he had not been so selfish and cowardly. He laughs darkly, recalling her final words to him. She was right, he realizes. All he has left now is his broken heart, and the chipped cup that now sits in a place of honor on the pedestal in the Great Hall of his castle. 

Standing, Rumplestiltskin traces his fingers over the glass, wanting nothing more than to touch his beloved one more time. Just once, he thinks, and that will be enough. He can feel her heart, still and silent in her chest, and he know she is truly dead. 

Carefully, he lifts the heavy glass, calling upon his magic to help him. Once it’s on the ground Rumple turns and lifts Belle into his arms. She is cool to the touch, and Rumple lets out a cry of anguish before burying his face into her hair, shaking as sobs wrack his body. She’s gone, and the words repeat in his mind over and over. Dead is dead. 

He holds her close, not wanting to let go. He should have never let go to begin with. With a heavy sigh, Rumple presses his forehead against Belle’s, wishing more than anything that she might open her eyes and smile at him. Or curse him. It hardly matters, so long as she’s alive.  

With great reluctance, Rumplestiltskin gently lays her back onto her cushioned resting place. He adjusts her dress and hair, ensuring she looks untouched. He hesitates a moment, fingers rubbing together nervously as he contemplates his next move. He should go, he knows, and leave her in peace. But he can’t forget the feeling of her lips on his, and wants nothing more than to relive that moment, even just once. Even if she can’t kiss him back. 

With care, he bends over and whispers, “I love you.” Then he touches his lips to hers. They are cold, as is the rest of her, but he can’t pull away. He lets his lips rest against hers for a long moment, then slowly pulls away. With another sigh, Rumple turns to restore the glass top to its proper place when he hears a small gasp, followed by a soft whisper, “Rumple?” 

The glass falls to the ground, shattering into pieces as Rumple whirls around to see two blue eyes staring at him curiously. With a cry, Rumple rushes to her side, pulling her up and into his arms. 

“Belle?” He asks, running his hands over her arms, her face, her hair. She is beginning to warm up, and he presses a hand over her breast, laughing in disbelief as he feels the distinct  _thump, thump_ of her heart. “You’re alive?” 

She nods, then meets his eyes. At once, she began to weep, and Rumple pulls her even closer, whispering words of comfort to sooth her. 

“It was dark,” she whispers, “And there was fire. So much fire. I couldn’t escape it, no matter what I did.” 

A sleeping curse, he realizes. She’d been put under a sleeping curse, and his kiss had freed her from it. True Love, his mind supplies; even after everything he’d done to her, she still loved him. He laughs in spite of himself, and when Belle pulled away to look at him in confusion, he explains everything. 

She smiles then, and wraps her own arms around him as he stands and spins with her in his arms. She is alive, and she loves him, and this is more than he ever deserved. 

“I love you,” he tells her again and again as he presses kisses all over her. She laughs and returns the gesture and the words, claiming she never wants to be parted from him again. 

“Never,” he agrees, “I will never let you go again.” 

She kisses him in response, then steps away, toward the entrance. “I want to leave this place,” she says, “Take me away.” 

Rumplestiltskin nods, then sweeps her into his arms and out of the mausoleum. They appear in the Dark Castle a moment later, and Rumple wastes no time capturing her lips with his. He’ll take her back to her father soon enough, and let them have their own reunion. But for now he wants her to himself, and so he pushes her against the table and kisses her, and revels in her love and her warmth. 


	78. By You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple catches Belle masturbating. RATED E

he guilt consumes her almost as much as the pleasure. She knows she shouldn’t be hiding, but she needs release, and Rumplestiltskin can’t give it to her. It’s not his fault, she thinks as she slips one finger inside. They’ve been without each other for over a year; they’ve spent more time apart than they have together. And Belle has needs, just like any other woman. She needs that breath-taking rush, that swell and fall of ecstasy as everything comes alight and bursts behind her eyes.  And it breaks her heart to know she finds that rush more easily from her own hand than from any part of Rumplestiltskin. 

But it has been a long time. And though she’d enjoyed his attentions and was pleased he could still so easily come apart for her, she needs what he hasn’t been able to provide. Rumplestiltskin is not a bad lover. The scant few times they’ve had the opportunity to be intimate have always been full of intense pleasure and bliss, and Belle recalls one such moment in the back of his shop as she rubs her slick fingers over herself, whimpering as a jolt of pleasure pricks her senses. She wishes she could respond to his touch as she used to. Before even the slightest touch from him was enough to have her breaking apart at the seams, but now it’s….not. 

She doesn’t know how to confide in him. She wants so much to figure this out on her own. But until she does, she needs to relieve the pressure and tension. She rubs herself, eyes opening wide as she hits her most sensitive spot  _just right_ and groans. She needs this, but even through the mind numbing pleasure, she wishes above all else that it was Rumple’s hand between her thighs, teasing and stroking and bringing her far too slowly to the edge. 

Her imagination drifts back to the first time they made love, and her fingers move in tandem with the memory of Rumplestiltskin’s body pushing in and out of her. She feels the swell, and knows she’s about to break, and murmur’s her True Love’s name. Even if he can’t bring over this edge, she can still pretend it’s him, and it makes the ache that follows the explosive pleasure tolerable. 

Sighing, she gives herself a moment before removing her hand from her trembling center. She sits up, freezing when she sees Rumplestiltskin standing in the doorway looking equally aroused and confused. She swallows thickly, knowing she’s going to have to come clean. Rumple knows she’s not some insatiable creature, and he’ll be wondering why she’s seeking pleasure from her own hand so soon after they’ve been together.

She looks down at her hand, still wet with her pleasure, and feels that horrid ache grip her tightly. She wonders how she’ll explain this, how she’ll make him understand that it’s not necessarily his fault or her fault, but it’s just….she’s more familiar with her hand than with him. It’s a pathetic thing to have to admit to, she thinks, but then her hand had always been accompanied with visions of him. It’s not that he  _can’t_ please her. It’s just that his memory seems to work so much better than his actual presence. She’s familiar with the memory; she’s not as familiar with the man himself.  She’s so torn and confused. She almost wishes the time travel spell had worked so that she could avoid this awkward and potentially devastating discussion. 

Rumple approaches the bed with cautious steps, and offers her a hesitant smile. “Hey,” he says and Belle doesn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or smack him. 

She does none of those and merely whispers back, “Hey.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed next to her, slow and hesitant, as if he’s afraid she might lash out if he moves too quickly. She looks away, the guilt bubbling up in her almost as overwhelming as the pleasure she’d felt a moment ago. She doesn’t say anything, waits for him to accuse her of….something. She doesn’t know what. 

It comes as a surprise when she feels his hand on hers, and she tries not to cringe as his hand comes to rest over her sticky fingers. “I didn’t please you.” 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to argue, to say that he  _did_ please her and she’s just worked up and needed some extra release but didn’t want to disturb him. She wants to tell him that he’s perfect in bed. She wants to try to convince him that he  _didn’t_ just catch his fiance masturbating in one of the guest rooms because nothing he’d tried had been enough to make her come. She wants to, but it’d be a lie, and Belle has had enough of lies in their relationship. 

So she settles on the gentlest form of truth she can find. “It’s not that you didn’t please me,” she whispers, and she thinks her voice reeks of guilt, “It’s just that I’m… used to taking care of myself.” 

She doesn’t know what she expects. He’s an insecure man, and knowing that he’s failed her in yet another way is going to be hell on his self-esteem. But she’s determined to be honest. Honesty breeds more honesty, she thinks, and if she wants Rumple to feel he can tell her anything, no matter how awful, she must do the same. But out of all possible reactions, she hadn’t expected him to offer her a gentle smile and say, “Well, we  _have_  been apart for a while.” 

How he can be so understanding, she has no idea. He’s caught her pleasuring herself in secret, and he’s not even upset. She’d expected him to be angry and now has no idea how to carry on this discussion. Rumplestiltskin seems to sense this, and squeezes her hand. “I’ve not been a very attentive lover,” he says simply, “From going off to Neverland, to…dying….being captured by that  _bitch_ -” They haven’t spoken of  _her_ since he admitted he killed her, and the hurt from that argument still stings slightly, “So there hasn’t been much opportunity for me to…be there…for you.” 

Belle can do nothing but nod in agreement and say, “No, there hasn’t.” 

He takes his other hand and tilts her chin up so he can better see her. “I-” he pauses, “I’m sorry.” 

 

If anything, Belle thinks, she’s the one who should be apologizing. She does. “I should have said something,” she admits, “But I was so afraid of hurting you.” 

He smiles, but only slightly. “Our methods of protecting each other from ourselves often seems to backfire."  

"Rumple, I’m sor-” 

He silences her with a kiss. She melts into him, her relief making the sensation far more pleasurable than before. He gently moves away from her and whispers against her cheek, “I heard you say my name.” 

Belle feels her cheeks go red, but she nods. “You’re the only one I think about,” she says, “It’s how I’ve survived the past year. Thinking of you while I touch myself, pretending you’re here. If I close my eyes and imagine hard enough, I can almost convince myself my hand is yours, and your voice is above me, and not just in my head.”

Rumple kisses her cheek, then stands and moves to sit against the headboard. Belle glances behind her questioningly but Rumple says nothing, instead pulling her gently by the arm to rest against him. He tugs at her nightgown, bunching it up around her waist and smirks when he sees she isn’t wearing underwear. He takes her hand and rests it atop his, then gently settles his fingers at the apex of her thighs. “Show me,” he whispers, “You know what you want of me, so show me what to do, and I’ll endeavor to be as good as your hand.” 

It’s enough to make her want to sob with relief. He may be hurt, what man wouldn’t have his pride stung by such a revelation? But this is Rumplestiltskin and for all his flaws, the man is certainly compassionate and generous when it comes to her. She guides his hand down, lightly stroking her folds and pressing teasingly at her center. Rumple groans behind her, and Belle feels the heat build inside her. She’s aroused, by Rumplestiltskin’s hand. She wants to tell him, but she can hardly focus enough to form a coherent word, and decides the wetness that now coats both their fingers says more than she could properly express. 

She guides his finger inside, pushing it in and pulling it out, and she begins to squirm against him. She can feel him growing hard behind her, and it adds to the absolute pleasure that is growing and encompassing her at her very core. She needs to break, needs nothing more than to shatter in Rumplestiltskin’s arms. It’s been too long since she’s felt such a pleasurable touch that wasn’t from her own fingers and she cries out as her hand falls away to grip his thigh, leaving Rumple to finish what they started. 

He slides his finger inside once more, the way she’s shown him, and takes his other hand to squeeze her breast. She tenses and cries out his name as the waves of pleasure crash over her once more and for a moment she thinks she might drown.

Her breathing is ragged, and it takes her a minute to regain control of her faculties. When she’s calm and no longer possessed by the soul-wrenching joy of having her lover bring her to this place again, she glances up at him to see him staring at her with the purest awe. She turns to wrap her arm around him and snuggles into him, suddenly very drowsy. “Thank you,” she murmurs against him. 

Rumplestiltskin presses a kiss to the top of her head and whispers, “I desire to please you in  _every_ way, Belle.” He adjusts her nightgown so it’s no longer bunched up and leaving her exposed. “Please tell me I have.” 

Belle understands the desperation in his voice. It’s the same desperation that caused her to seek out a separate room to relieve herself of the ache that had been left after they’d made love. This is a deep desire to know that he’s made her happy. It’s beyond physical pleasure, though that’s how it’s manifested itself. He needs to know that she’s satisfied in all ways. She is, she thinks, and tells him so. When he doesn’t look quite convinced, Belle sits up and faces him. Taking his face between her fingers, she kisses him soundly and whispers against his lips, “I’m content,” she whispers, “Pleased, sated, satisfied, happy. You’ve made me all those things.” 

“I have?” He asks, sounding amazed. She kisses him once more, and moves to straddle him. 

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice strained by the delight she feels of being pressed against him. “By your words, you hand, your body. By  _you_.” 

He rolls her over so he’s looming above her. He presses frantic kisses to her lips, throat, and neck, and Belle sighs happily, this moment feeling so much like the times before. He presses close to her, and growls, “Teach me how. Teach me how to please you thoroughly. In every way, Belle, I want to please you.” 

She grips his shoulders and sighs contentedly as he touches her once more, “You are.”


	79. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark Castle Prompt: Belle and Rumple make love for the first time. RATED E

The feeling that settles around him is familiar and comfortable, if a bit heavy. He’s used to it and he embraces it like a lover, wields it like a shield he can hoist up to protect him. It’s been his only companion for so long. It’s addictive, like the alcohol in the flask at his hip, but sweeter. Everlasting and consuming as it washes over him in waves. 

He doesn’t have a name for it, despite how intimate he is with the feeling. It’s been his quiet, solitary companion for centuries and yet he’s never paused long enough to name it. To name it will be to realize there’s something wrong, and if there’s one thing in which Rumplestiltskin has become quite adept, it’s avoiding his problems. 

He’s so wrapped up in the feeling that it comes as a shock to him when he notices it in Belle too. The girl who was supposed to only be a deal, bartered for because she was the only thing of value the desperate Lord had. She had been the means to an end, a bargaining tool, and yet Rumplestiltskin has come to view her as more. He regards her as a friend. 

She has always expressed her contentment here. She refers to the castle as ‘home’ and she behaves as if she were its mistress, not just its servant. And in many ways, she  _i_ s mistress here. She’s made this place her home, even in little ways. She leaves books everywhere. She also has a tendency to leave tea cups scattered throughout the downstairs and library. He doesn’t fuss, because despite the fact that he brought her here to clean up his messes, not make messes of her own, he sees it for what it is: domesticity. And he finds it’s something he craves.

He watches her now, sitting by the window in the great hall, sipping on a tea cup. It’s her space, made so by the blanket, books, and small end table she has close by. She perches there daintily, and is the most beautiful sight Rumplestiltskin has ever beheld.  And yet, despite that beauty, he sees the slump of her shoulders, the sadness in her eyes. He hears the breathy sigh escape her lips and can practically  _feel_  the longing rolling off her in waves. She’s embraced in the same feeling that wraps around him like a blanket and squeezes him like a vice, and he finally recognizes it for what it is: loneliness.

He’s lonely, he realizes, as if he’s never truly acknowledged it before. Before him, Belle sits idly, and he sees that she is lonely too. They’re the only two people in the castle, and despite their companionship, she needs more. He needs more too. It’s not enough that he’s taken her away from her father, her people, and her friends. He’s removed her from society. And despite her odd and bookish tendencies, Belle is a lady of the court, and is meant to be social. She needs conversation and laughter and the touch of others in the same way the rose garden outside needs sun and rain and soil. But Rumplestiltskin is a selfish man, and he doesn’t want to give Belle up. Instead he decides to be the one to give her what she needs. 

Perhaps she can help him in the same way. 

The castle is large; it’s far too large for two people, and the silent solitude between them seems to fill the void and make the air stale with its presence. Now that Rumplestiltskin has named the feeling that for so long was a phantom at his side, he feels it more acutely. The heaviness increases tenfold, and he wonders if she sees slumped shoulders when she looks at him. And suddenly it’s not as sweet and comforting as it was before. Perhaps it’s because he now sees how it looks on another. Loneliness is not becoming on anyone, not even the lovely Belle who looks beautiful in rags or finery. But loneliness doesn’t suit her. It shouldn’t suit him, and something in him makes the decision that he wants to feel companionship. He wants to feel the sweet embrace of  _another_ for once, and not the bitter chill of silent nights and empty beds.   
  
So he approaches her, half mad in his revelations, and stands before her at the window sill, where she is bathed in sunlight and solitude. She notices him immediately and turns her head to regard him. She looks up at him, big blue eyes staring at him with such kindness and sincerity. But he sees the hollowness too, that she tries to keep buried down. She’s supposed to take care of him, not the other way around, and so she hides her pain and sorrow and puts all her energy into her work, hoping that the accomplishment she feels at the end of the day will somehow drown out the fact that she has no one with whom she can share her triumphs. 

“I was watching the birds,” she explains as she draws her knees up and motions for him to sit. “Join me?"   
  
He does, and they sit together for a long while, watching the birds flit about on the large oak tree just outside the window. 

"I wish I were a bird,” Belle says wistfully, and Rumple’s attention focuses on her. She continues, “I think it must be so wonderful to fly. To sing such pretty songs.” She sighs and rests her forehead against the glass. “I wonder if their songs are happy or sad. They’re so lovely, and I can’t imagine how something so lovely could be so sad?" 

He thinks the same of Belle. She’s too lovely to be sad, and Rumple knows he could grant her wish, if it would make her happy.

"If you were a bird,” he asks softly, “Would you fly away?"   
  
She hums in thought, seemingly pleased with the idea, then turns her head slightly to regard him. "Do you mean from you?" 

He nods but doesn’t speak. She smiles, then leans forward and takes his hand in hers. "I would take you with me. We could fly together." 

The thought of doing something,  _anything_ with Belle fills his heart with a feeling that is not familiar. It’s pleasant, but not the same kind of pleasant that he associates with loneliness. It’s a deep and true sort of feeling, one that encompasses him entirely but doesn’t leave him with the slight chill he expects. He likes it and decides he wants more. 

"Are you lonely here?” He asks at last, and Belle stares at him studiously for a long while before nodding her reply. 

“Are you?” She asks at length and Rumple sighs, “Yes." 

"We shouldn’t be lonely,” Belle says after a while and when she squeezes his hand he realizes that she never let go. Her hand in his is a wondrous thing, and he can’t help but envision them closer. 

“We shouldn’t,” he agrees, and shifts so that he’s closer to her. She moves as well, sitting on her legs with feet tucked under her buttocks. She leans forward, fingers still entwined in his. 

“I think we’re both far too lonely,” Belle says at length, “And we keep trying to rely on ourselves to cure that feeling." 

"But it doesn’t work,” Rumple continues, and it’s as if they are of one mind. One heart. “Only someone else can make the pain stop." 

"I’m the caretaker,” Belle whispers, “I’m meant to take care of you." 

"But who will take care of you?” Rumple asks and Belle smiles. 

“I think you’re the only one who can,” she whispers, “You’re the only one who understands." 

"What do you want?” Rumple asks, and prays she asks for something he can give. She moves closer and reaches down so that both their hands are entwined. 

“I don’t know,” she admits, “But I need something. Words. Touch. What do you want?"   
  
He sighs and bends over, so his face is resting in her lap, their hands at his lips. "To be touched,” he sighs, “To be held. To not feel alone." 

"To be intimate?"   
  
Rumple raises up and looks at Belle with such wonder. "Yes,” he admits, “But I feel wretched asking it of you." 

"You’re not asking,” Belle says, untangling one hand so she can touch his cheek. He leans into the touch and it awakens his desire for  _more._ “I’m offering. I want it to. Intimacy." 

Rumple sighs in relief. She wants the intimacy that he craves. He thinks for a moment of how scandalized her father’s court would be if they found out. But they won’t. He and Belle are alone and isolated, and whatever they choose to do to ward off this feeling is their business. 

Belle stands, and pulls him along with her. She says nothing, but he knows what is about to happen. He should; of the two of them he’s the only one who truly understands the act in which they are about to partake. It was enjoyable, he recalls absently as he follows Belle up to her room. But it’s been so long, he doesn’t even know how it will be. Will he make a fool of himself? Will he last? Will he satisfy her? 

It’s only when they step into her bedchamber that Rumple realizes something. Belle has no experience in this, save for books, and he’s so out of practice he may as well be a virgin too. But they both know this isn’t about sex. It’s not about the carnal desire of two people who cannot control their primal urges to come together. This is about intimacy; about coming together for the good of the other. It’s about knowing they have someone else with whom they can share all things in all ways. They are fighting off their mutual loneliness in the arms of one another, and that is pleasure enough. The rest will come as it will; all that matters is knowing he can trust this beautiful woman with everything in him. She will hold his body and mend his soul, and he will try his best to do the same for her. 

She strips, and he takes pleasure in watching her as she slowly removes each garment and folds it carefully before laying it in a neat pile on her vanity chair. Ever the caretaker, his Belle. When she’s naked, she steps forward and begins to unbutton his shirt. He lets her, and allows himself to take in the sight of the woman before him. She glances up at him and smiles almost cheekily. 

"You seem rather comfortable, to be exposed,” Rumple comments. Belle raises an eyebrow in amusement. 

“I have nothing to be ashamed of,” she says simply, “I feel as if you’ve already looked into my soul. What shame should I have about you seeing something as superficial as the body that houses it?" 

"It’s a lovely thing, your soul,” Rumple says as he trembles under Belle’s touch. “Though the body that houses it is just as appealing."   
  
She giggles at that, and he sees some of the darkness that surrounds her flee. This can work, he thinks. They can ease away each other’s loneliness. He slips out of his shirt and tosses it carelessly to the floor. Belle gives him an annoyed look and he quips, "Tea cups. Everywhere." 

She rolls her eyes, and sets to work on his pants. "I get distracted,” she defends, “You can always magic them to the kitchen." 

"I hired a caretaker to do that for me,” he responds, sighing as her hand brushes over his length. Belle glances at him and smiles, “I’m afraid your caretaker does a poor job." 

He takes her hand in his and gently shows her how to cup him. He shivers and says, "I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

She giggles again, and it never ceases to amaze him that she finds him funny. His sense of humor is crass and tasteless at best, vulgar and shocking at worst. But Belle laughs, her own bird song, and fills the once dark and silent halls of his castle with light and mirth. He’ll do anything to ensure that light remains. It came pouring in when she ripped the curtains off the walls and came tumbling down with them. He hopes tonight will be the start of more laughter in his halls. He wants her laughter. He raises a hand to caress one of her breasts and she sighs. He wants that too. A castle full of laughter is a delightful thing; a castle full of pleasure-filled sighs seems even more appealing. 

She’s still cupping him, but nothing more. It’s enough for the moment, just to feel her there, to know she’s not disgusted by him. She looks at him thought heavy-lidded eyes and he takes the opportunity to squeeze her breast. She gasps, then lets out another beautiful sigh and Rumple ponders the concept of bottling that sigh and replacing it with the rum he once used to get drunk. This is much more satisfying, if not more addicting and he wants another taste. He pinches her nipple, just barely, and she gifts him with a moan.  
  
She smiles at him, and takes a step back, and with her hand still in place he has no choice but to follow her. “I think perhaps we should get on the bed?

"Yes." 

He will follow her anywhere. He knows this now. She may suffer from the same loneliness he does, but she’s already chased away so much by one simple touch. It only adds to his hunger for more, but he’s already so satisfied and at ease, he can’t imagine how it can get better.

Then she pulls him down on top of her, and he disregards that thought, because she is so soft and small and warm. She looks at him curiously for a moment, and he can sense a question coming. "Can I kiss you?” She asks quietly, then elaborates, “I’ve always thought it would be nice, to kiss you. Can that be part of our intimacy?" 

"You may do whatever you wish,” he says. It’s a dangerous thing to say, because it gives her power. She could choose to leave him right now, and he couldn’t fight it because he said ‘anything’. But he also knows Belle would never abuse such power, and he trusts her with everything in him. As strongly as he distrusts the rest of the world, he trusts Belle. 

She leans up, watching him curiously all the while, and slowly captures his lips with hers. He melts into her, warm and content, and she pulls away to look at him. His eyes are closed and he looks relaxed. At ease. Grinning, she leans up and takes his lips once more, experimenting with tongue and teeth, the way her romance novels told her it was done.

He seems content to let her do as she wishes, so she continues her exploration. He kisses back after a while and she sighs when pulls her lower lips between his teeth and nibbles. It’s a pleasant feeling, as is everything they’ve done so far. They kiss for a long while, taking comfort in each other. At length, Belle becomes curious and her hands begin to roam, first over his back, then down his chest, stopping at his hips. Rumple practically purrs in delight, her nails ghosting over him, causing gooseflesh to rise over his scale-like skin. She giggles at that, as she does with each new experience, and the sound goes straight to his cock. He can feel himself beginning to  _want_ , and not in the way that brought them to this place. He still needs it, the closeness they both crave, but he is only a man underneath all this power, and even the Dark One cannot resist the allure of a beautiful, naked, willing woman in his bed.

He lifts himself up to rest on his arm, and brings one hand down to play with her nipple again. She squeaks in surprise, her own exploration halting as he brings about chills on her own skin. She looks at him in surprise and delight, and he can’t help the wicked grin that spreads over his swollen lips as he pinches her once more.

Her eyes slip shut and a moan escapes. It does things to him that a simple moan should not do.

He lowers his head and presses his lips to her breast, and her breath hitches as she begins to squirm against him. The  _want_ he feels she must feel now as well. Belle lifts his head after a moment and brings their lips together, a little harder than before. This kiss isn’t as careful and controlled as the first one. This one is built more out of a need to consume than to experience and explore and Rumple revels in the raw emotion that is building between them.

Her hand slips downward and cups him once more and he growls against her mouth. He moves his hand down between her thighs in response, and when he feels her he gasps, “You’re wet.”

“I thought I was supposed to be,” she says, laughing when he leans up to give her a dry look. In lieu of a reply, he caresses her center, running his claw-like fingers through her folds, taking satisfaction as Belle cries out. It’s a beautiful sound, Rumplestiltskin thinks, and he wants to hear it again. He presses a finger inside and Belle and she doesn’t disappoint. Then she squeezes him and it’s his turn to fill the silence. She smiles smugly at him, and he can’t resist kissing her. He moves his lips down to press hot kisses against her neck and shoulder while she continues stroking him. She’s gentle, as she is in all things, and Rumple can’t help but admire the caring way she teases him. She knows how he feels, how solitary one can feel. She also knows just how to chase away that lingering darkness: with gentle squeezes and slow strokes.

He’s  _with_ her, in this moment, their bodies pressed together in the most intimate of ways. He no longer feels like an island, floating in a sea of despair of sorrow. He’s found shore, found a place where he can reach out, and for the first time in centuries, feel someone take his hand. He’s no longer drowning in all the regret and sorrow that is his life; instead he drowns in sighs and moans that encourage  _more_.

Soon enough, emotional need makes way for physical, and Rumple entwines his fingers with hers, which are still caressing his length. He looks at Belle, and she smiles. He won’t ask her if she’s sure, because if he only knows one thing about this woman, it’s that she never does anything without absolute certainty. She wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t have come this far if she didn’t desire this as greatly as he does, and so he says nothing, lines them up, and presses inside.

Her head falls back against the pillow, and her eyes slip shut as he pushes forward. He presses a kiss to her neck, and he can feel her smile once more against him. He goes slowly, not so much for her but for him. He wants to savor this; he wants to savor the first time he’s truly connected with her. When he’s sheathed inside, he stills, and Belle opens her eyes to look at him. Her blue eyes look a shade darker, as if the lust that is inevitable to form between them has finally settled in like a rain cloud over the sky. It’s a beautiful shade, he thinks, and he tells her so. She doesn’t reply, instead lifting her hand to brush his hair out of his own eyes.

“You feel wonderful,” she breaths instead.  “I feel….” She trails off, and Rumple reaches up to toy with her breast once more. He loves how she responds when he touches her there. She hums in delight, and he leans down to take a nipple in his mouth. “Yes,” she breaths, “Like that.”

She wiggles once more, and he feels it more acutely than before. He snaps his head up to look at her, and can’t help but adore the coy expression she’s wearing. She moves her hips again and his breath escapes him as pleasure hits him like lightning. “Oh, Belle,” he breaths, then he’s moving within her, slow and tentative, because that’s exactly how it should be.

He has no need to frantic fucking, losing himself in the sensations and only seeking the release at the end. No, he wants to  _experience_ this. Every sigh, every thrust of their hips, he wants it burned into his memory. There will be other times, he knows. They will seek each other out when the loneliness becomes unbearable, but there will only ever be one first time, and he wants this to be one for the books. So he moves slowly, watching Belle as she meets his every movement, her eyes locked with his. She’s with him, everything he feels she does as well, and there’s a connection borne between them that is more powerful than any magic he’s ever known. It isn’t love, he doesn’t think, not quite. But it’s something deeper and more sincere. He doesn’t quite have time to examine it, because Belle is rising, and pressing her lips to his neck, biting just hard enough that it’ll leave a mark. But oh, it does things to him, and he can’t help but snap his hips and thrust a little harder.

Belle pulls him down so she’s resting on the pillows once more, and claims his lips. While her tongue melds with his, her legs spread, and she lifts them so they’re wrapped around his back, pushing him ever closer to her. He slides a hand under her back, pressing her to him in response, and he can’t imagine anything more beautiful and perfect than this coupling. She is full with him, and he is surrounded by her, and nothing has ever been quite this satisfying before.

He feels her begin to shudder, and knows the end is coming. He shifts, moving his hand to where they are blissfully connected, and begins to touch her, in that place he knows will bring her unmeasurable delight. She cries out, and he can feel her tighten around him. It’s too much, and he can’t contain himself any longer. He follows her with a hoarse shout, and collapses on top of her.

They don’t move for a long while. He knows he should, but every time he tries, Belle tightens her hold on him. She’s running her fingers over his back, tracing senseless patterns on his sweat-soaked skin. In some ways, this is better than sex. The simple intimacy of just  _being_ together. Her arms are full of him, and she is incredibly warm. She’s pressing kisses to his cheek, seeming content to just lie there with him. After a while, her skin cools and he shifts so he can pull down the covers and then pulls them both underneath. He settles on his back and drags her to his side, noticing with awe just how well she fits against him. She now traces those same abstract patterns on his chest, occasionally stopping to pinch and tug at his nipples teasingly. He grabs her hand in his and lifts it, pressing open mouthed kisses against her palm and down her arm, before tugging her on top of him and kissing her mouth. She happily returns the kiss, and they remain there for some time.

Eventually, they break away, and Belle settles back at his side, content to hold him and be held. He picks up her habit and begins to caress her skin, the smoothness of it addicting. He wants to touch all of her, memorize every inch of her body and how it responds to him. And he will. He will know her more intimately than any man – any _one_  – and she will know him just as well. They will be what each other needs. They will fill the void in the other’s heart.

“I feel better,” she says eventually, dragging him out of the pleasant sleepiness he’s indulging in.

“As do I,” he agrees. And it’s true.

“I’m glad I could take care of you.”

He chuckles. “You’re an excellent caretaker,” he says affectionately, “Far too good for the likes of me.”

“Hush,” she says, “I’m sated and sleepy, and won’t tolerate self-deprecation in my bed.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead, “Yes, my lady.” He waits a beat and then asks, “Sated, hmm?”

She nods. “That’s what my romance books call it,” she says, “I always thought it sounded like such a lovely word. Sated. I’ve always wanted to be sated.” She looks up at him and smiles, “And now I am.”

“Is it everything you hoped?”

She nods and hugs him tightly, “It’s so much more. I never want to feel anything else.”

That causes something deep within him to stir, and he moves so that he’s hovering over her. “Never leave me,” he says, “And I’ll make sure you’re always sated.”

“You’ll take care of me?” She asks sweetly and he nods.

“And you’ll take care of me.”

“And we won’t be lonely anymore?”

He shakes his head and entwines their fingers together. “No,” he says, “We won’t.”

Belle smiles. “Good.”

She pushes him onto his back and curls around him, silently informing him that she wants to sleep. He holds her close, and as he drifts to sleep, he feels a new sensation wash over him. It’s foreign but welcome, as light as the sunlight Belle bathes in and as comforting as a bird song. Rumplestiltskin wastes no time in naming this feeling: He calls it peace.


	80. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin has been resurrected, but he’s not quite the same. Belle tries everything to restore the man she loves. (Beast!Rumple) RATED E

He looks like a corpse. Belle finds the description fitting, for only a few hours ago he  _was_ a corpse. But now he’s alive, if that’s even the appropriate word. He’s breathing, existing, but not much else. 

Belle sits at his feet with a book in her hand, as she did a lifetime ago. She sent Neal to alert the others of what they’ve done, though she admits to herself that sending him away is also out of selfishness. She’s been without Rumplestiltskin for months, and now she has him to herself. 

But it’s not really him, she realizes painfully. The man in the chair before her is not her Rumplestiltskin. He’s a shell of his former self. She thinks about how hard it had been to get them here. Rumple had hissed and snapped at them, practically animalistic in his self-defense. She had touched him, then, hoping that True Love would do….something… and restore him. It hadn’t. He had simply went limp, as if he were giving up. They had carried him back to the Dark Castle and placed him in front of a raging fire. He’d been there ever since. 

That was two days ago, and Neal left this morning. Belle spent the entire day by his side, talking to him and reminding him of their short time together. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and by nightfall, Belle is beginning to lose hope. He won’t eat, won’t drink; he doesn’t do anything but breath and blink, staring at the fire as if he were mesmerized. Belle has tried everything, she thinks. Talking to him, reading to him, feeding him. Nothing has worked, and Belle thinks this is a fate worse than death. 

He wouldn’t want to be like this, she sighs as she stares up at his unseeing eyes. He sacrificed himself for a reason, and Belle wonders belatedly if this was the wrong thing to do. Sighing, she sits on her knees and rests her hand on his leg. He flinches, but doesn’t move otherwise and Belle has to fight to keep herself from crying. 

“We were selfish, weren’t we?” She asks, wondering if he can hear her. “We should never have brought you back. All magic comes with a price. You taught me that. I should have  _known_ that.” She rests her head on his lap and cries, hating herself for breaking down in front of him. 

He doesn’t move; doesn’t offer comfort. She doesn’t expect him to, but it still hurts and she cries until she can’t anymore. She glances up, wishing with everything in her that he would just look at her. But he is still frozen, a living statue and Belle feels overwhelmed with regret. Deciding to leave him in peace for a while, she rises to her feet and leans down to press a light kiss to his lips. It’s the first time her lips have touched his in months and she shivers from the pleasure of it. 

Then he breathes in, slow and deep, and Belle stumbles away from him in shock. His breathing until then had been shallow and steady - enough to keep him alive, but barely so. But this is a true breath, taken by someone who  _wants_ to breathe. 

Swallowing thickly, Belle approaches again and touches her lips to his once more. It’s True Love’s Kiss, she thinks absently, and she doesn’t know why she didn’t think of it before. He sighs this time, and she feels his fingers twitch under her hand. She presses harder, and after a moment moves atop his lap so she can kiss him better. 

She kisses, hard and fast and desperate. After several moments, she hears another, audible sigh, and feels fingers creeping up her back and into her hair. She begins to cry, even as his lips begin to move beneath hers, and she wraps her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. “It’s working,” she thinks, “It’s working.” 

His lips begin to grow more demanding, and soon he’s ripping at her clothing, that same animalistic behavior from before making itself known. This time Belle doesn’t shy away. She doesn’t fight him, because she wants this - needs it - and if ripping away her corset and blouse will bring Rumple back to her, then she’ll burn all her clothing and stay this way forever. Whatever it takes, she thinks as his clawed hands move none too gently over her breasts. 

She whispers, “Yes,” against his lips, because she knows that when he is himself again, he’ll worry he did something against her wishes. Her selfless Rumple, she thinks, even as he rips away clothing and shoves her onto the floor, only to fall on top of her, kissing and biting hard as she is consumed with fire and love. 

She rips at his clothing as well, though is significantly less successful, and Rumple, still not quite in his right mind, assists her in ripping away the offending materials. Once they’re both nude, he enters her roughly, and Belle weeps in relief. He may not be entirely whole yet, but he’s on his way, and that’s more than enough for her in the moment. He moves, hard and fast, and she lets him, because Rumplestiltskin is alive and in her, and nothing else matters at present. It’s all him, only him. 

When he finishes, he collapses on top of her in a shuddering heap. She wraps her arms around him, rubbing his back gently as she whispers his name over and over. 

“Come back to me,” she breaths against him, lifting his head so she can kiss his lips once more. “Come back.” 

This time when he returns the kiss, it’s gentle and familiar. Just like her Rumplestiltskin. When she opens her eyes, he’s staring down at her in confusion and wonder, and she can’t help as she begins to cry and laugh at once. 

He moves back, slowly and unsteady, and Belle follows him into a sitting position. He looks around in silence,then lets his gaze fall back on her. “Belle,” he whispers. Belle nods, her name never sounding so  _good_ before. 

He takes stock of their lack of clothing, and it seems to dawn on him what has just transpired. He opens his mouth to speak but Belle shushes him, and smiles. “I said ‘yes’,” she supplies. He thinks for a moment, then nods. 

“You did.” 

“It worked.” 

He nods once more. “I don’t understand. I feel….tired.” 

Belle rests her hand on his thigh, “Coming back from the dead will do that to a person, I imagine.” 

“How did you do it?” He sounds so haggard now, but Belle can’t be sorry. He’s back, even if he is weak and confused. She explains what they did, apologizing along the way for doing something so selfish. She informs him it was Neal’s idea, but that she hadn’t protested, wanting nothing more than to have him back. 

“We were selfish,” she says gently, “After all you did for us, we just brought you back without a care about whether you would have wanted it.” 

“I didn’t,” he whispers, and Belle isn’t surprised. He’d seemed so tired that day. So sick of magic and fighting. He’d been at peace. And they brought him back to a world full of the very thing he saved them from. “But I certainly can’t complain now that I’m back.” 

He’s eying her appreciatively, and Belle can’t help but blush. He rests a hand against her cheek. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

She shakes her head. She’s a little sore, but she won’t admit to it. He’s suffered enough at her hand. She is glad of her decision to stay quiet when he sags in relief. “Good.” 

“What made you do that?” She asks suddenly. Rumple thinks for a moment, then shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says at last. “When I came to, you were kissing me with such ferocity. It was just….instinct. To claim you, in some way. I wasn’t entirely myself.” 

He wasn’t, but he is now, and that’s what matters. “Well, it brought you back to me,” she says as she moves to hug him, loving how he feels pressed up against her skin, “So I can’t complain.” 

Rumple pulls away after a moment, and looks around. “Bae?” He asks, fear in his eyes. Belle puts those fears to rest. 

“He’s fine,” she says, “He went to tell the others that you’re back.” She smiles sheepishly at his look. “We thought they might want to know. Everyone was devastated by your death.” 

He laughs dryly and Belle frowns. “It’s true,” she says, “There wasn’t much time to mourn right after you died,” the word is still bitter on her lips but she presses on, “But you  _were_ missed. And loved. So much.” 

He kisses her at that, and she sighs happily at knowing she hasn’t lost this. She loves kissing him, and now she can do it whenever she wants. It’s a thrilling thought and it makes her kiss him even more desperately. 

He pulls away after a moment, and Belle can sense another question. “How did you get here anyway?” He asks, then says, “Why are we in the Dark Castle?” 

She could tell him, she thinks, but she doesn’t want to. Not now. There will be time to sit and talk, especially when Neal returns, possibly with the others. For now they are alone, and naked, and her True Love has been restored to her. She tells him this instead, and he grins and kisses her. 

Talking can wait, he agrees. She’ll owe him a story, as he once owed her. But there are more important things to be done at the moment. He’s weak, but he manages to whisk them to his bedchambers, where Belle properly welcomes her True Love home. 


	81. Sit Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She threatens him when he won’t sit still.

 

“Sit still!” 

“I am!” 

Belle huffed and lowered the scissors. She reached forward with the hand that held the comb and slapped Rumple’s leg lightly. “ You are not. Your leg is bouncing,” she said tersely, “I can’t cut your hair if you keep moving. No one will fear a Dark One with an uneven haircut.” 

Rumple huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Bell smacked him on the head with her comb. “Quit slouching,” she fussed. 

He grumbled and pulled himself up to sit straight, his movements exaggerated to show his own annoyance and Belle laughed. “You’re a child,” she teased and Rumple turned to glare at her. She grabbed his head and turned it so that he face straight ahead. “ _You_ asked  _me_ to do this. So let me do it and  _sit still_."  

"I would if you would stop being such a pain in the  _ouch!”_ He whirled around to see Belle standing with arms crossed and looking at him smugly. He pointed to the scissors. “You stabbed me.” 

Belle rolled her eyes, “I did not  _stab_ you,” she said exasperatedly. “I  _poked_ you. Besides,” she said as she turned his head back to the front once more and lifted some of his hair, “You were shot in the chest with an arrow and it didn’t do a thing.” 

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” he mumbled. Belle laughed and continue to cut his hair. A moment later his leg began to bounce again and she growled in frustration. 

“Rumplestiltskin, I swear, if you don’t sit perfectly still until I’m finished, I’ll- I’ll  _kiss you_!” 

He went rigid for a moment, and Belle felt a slight pang of sadness that her threat worked. But then he glanced back at her, produced the most wicked smile she’d ever seen, and began to bounce his leg again. 


	82. Sit Still, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has to alter her threat.

Belle glares at the back of his head. The man is insufferable, though Belle doesn’t want him any other way. 

“What have I told you about sitting still?”

She asks, running the comb through his hair. 

“If I don’t, you’ll kiss me,” Rumple replies simply, smugly.

Belle leans over to stare at his moving leg. “You realize that was a threat, right?” 

Rumple doesn’t reply, instead choosing to bounce his leg even more dramatically. 

“How about this, then,” Belle says, coming around to stand in front of her lover. “If you don’t sit still, I’ll  _refuse_ to kiss you.” 

Rumple goes rigidly still and Belle laughs. She resumes trimming his hair, and when she’s finished, she rewards him with a deep and searing kiss. 


	83. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold is tortured instead of Regina. Baelfire helps Belle to save him in the last moment

They hadn’t been able to find Regina, so they settled for Rumplestiltskin.  
  
It wasn’t what they’d wanted, but it would have to do. Greg decided that perhaps the little mishap of capturing the wrong person could still work to his advantage.  If he could not get to Regina, perhaps Rumplestiltskin might have some information about his father, or at the very least, where to find Regina.  
  
So they’d tied him down, which hadn’t been hard once they wrestled his cane from him. Greg absently rubbed the side of his face where he’d taken a sharp blow from the golden handle, and began attaching the cables to Mr. Gold.  
  
“Now I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them truthfully,” Greg explained and Gold let out an undignified snort.  
  
“Not bloody likely.”  
  
Greg smirked then, and placed the last clasp on the side of Gold’s head.  
  
“Where is Regina?” He asked and Gold shrugged as best he could.  
  
“I have no idea.”  
  
Greg flipped the switch and Gold screamed in agony.  
  
-000-  
  
“Baelfire, please. He isn’t at the shop and he isn’t answering my calls,” Belle begged as she followed Bae down the street.  
  
“He’s probably just pushing you away like he does everyone,” Bae sneered.  
  
“That’s not it,” she declared, reaching out to grab his arm. He turned to face her, set on telling her he didn’t give a damn about where his father was, but froze when he saw the terrified, desperate look in her eyes. “Please,” she whispered.  
  
Bae sighed. “Fine,” he said. “One hour. That’s all I’m giving him.”  
  
“I’ll take it,” Belle said with relief.  
  
They searched everywhere, eventually making their way toward the docks but there was no sign of Mr. Gold. Bae was ready to give up but before he could, Belle heard something and grabbed his arm, leading him toward the cannery. As they moved closer the sound became clearer. Someone was screaming.  
  
Belle reached into her bag and pulled out the small handgun that Gold had given her before he’d gone off to face the pirate. Bae gave her a strange look and Belle shrugged.  
  
“Rumple wanted to make sure I was safe when he wasn’t around.”   
  
Bae could say nothing to that, but instead took the gun gently from her hand and wrapped his hand around it, finger ready at the trigger. He lead her inside and they followed the sound of the screams, which they both were now positive was Rumplestiltksin.  
  
Bae lead her around the corner, then ducked quickly and grabbed Belle to pull her down as well.  
  
She looked at him curiously as he stared out blankly in front of him. "Emma was right,” he whispered to himself. “Emma was right.”  
  
Belle lifted her head slightly to see the face of Bae’s fiancé, then ducked back down and placed her hand on Bae’s arm.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really am.”

He wiped away the tears that were forming in his eyes and gave Belle a stern look. “Let’s save the bastard,” he growled.  
  
He crept over to the door. Belle joined him and he whispered his plan, "I’ll grab her,” he said. “You stop them from torturing Papa.”  
  
Belle nodded and turned but Bae grabbed her. “I can handle Tamara,” he said, his voice cracking, “So you take this. You may have to use it to save him.”  
  
Belle took back the gun and nodded. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”  
  
Bae offered her a sad smile, nodded his head and opened the door, rushing Tamara as Belle swept into the room where Greg was torturing Gold.  
  
“Don’t move!” She declared as loudly and harshly as she could, freezing only momentarily when she saw the state Rumplestiltskin was in.  
  
Greg stared. "Who are you?” He asked.  
  
She glared and nodded toward Rumple. “I’m his girlfriend,” she stated proudly. She pointed the gun toward the machine and fired, causing it to hiss and smoke; after a moment the gauges fell and the whirring of the motors stopped.  
  
She moved around, gun pointed and stopped in front of Greg. “You’re not in the system,” he said, clearly shocked that someone had escaped their knowledge. “Who are you?”  
  
She stared down at him angrily. “Belle,” she said gently, “My name is Belle.” With that she took the gun and slammed it against his head and Greg fell unconscious.  
  
She pushed back the guilt she felt for harming the man and turned, rushing to Rumple, who was barely conscious.  
  
She began unhooking the strange devices and Gold groaned. “B-Belle?” He whispered and she shushed him. Leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his dry, cracked lips she cooed, “It’s all right, love,” she whispered, “We’ve got you now. You’re safe.”  
  
“W-we?” He gasped out and Bae called out from behind them.  
  
“We,” he said, coming to stand over his father. “You look like hell,” Bae observed and Belle gave him a stern look.  
  
“Where is she?” Belle asked, tilting her head back to where Tamara had been standing.  
  
“Unconscious. Kinda like this asshole,” Bae said looking down at Greg, a large purple bruise already forming from where Belle struck him. “Nice work,” he said, clearly impressed with how well Belle had handled herself and she let out a small smile.  
  
She finished unhooking and untying Rumple, pulling him into a sitting position. He slumped, weak, and Bae grabbed him, leaning him against his chest. “He’s not going to be able to walk,” Bae observed and Belle nodded in understanding.  
  
“We’ll have to carry him,” she decided.  "We’ll take him to the shop.“  
  
Gold groaned as Belle and Bae maneuvered him to a standing position, each taking an arm and supporting his weight, half dragging, half carrying him out of the building. It was a slow process, the two of them trying to move in tandem to ensure Rumplestiltskin was jarred as little as possible.  
  
Finally, they reached Gold’s shop and Belle used her key to let them in. The laid him down on the couch, where he’d lay dying only a couple weeks prior and Belle knelt at his side, gently running her fingers on the side of his face, careful to avoid the burn marks.  
  
He stirred at her touch, an opened his eyes, surprised to see a familiar - safe- place. "How-” He began but Belle shushed him.  
  
“Hush,” she said. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”  
  
“Bae,” he whispered, wincing in pain and Bae knelt beside Belle.  
  
“I’m here, Papa,” he replied.  
  
“I love you,” Rumple murmured sleepily, desperate to make sure they knew it, “Both of you.”  
  
He slipped unconscious then, and Belle and Bae remained by his side, both deciding silently that they would be there when he awoke.


	84. Healing (Torture Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture’: Belle helps in Rumple’s recover

He was still weak.

It had been three days since Gold had been tortured by Greg and Tamara, and still he was not healed. Belle worried, convinced that he should have been able to heal himself. They’d managed to get that foul piece of metal off his wrist - which had left quite the scar. Just another on to add to the collection - and Belle had been sure that once the device preventing him from using magic had been removed, he would snap his fingers and be healed in an instant.

Yet he remained in bed, weak and unmoving. He would drift in and out of consciousness enough to sip some water and he then would promptly fall asleep. It broke Belle’s heart to see her True Love in such a state, and she wished more than anything that she could snap  _ _her__  fingers and see him healed.

But she had no magic, and so she could only sit at his side and wait for a miracle.

Baelfire did what he could, but he was torn between spending time with his son, getting over his feelings for Tamara, and making sure Belle had everything she needed to take care of Rumplestiltskin. He was impressed that someone could care for his father as much as she did - and had hardly been surprised when Henry told him they shared True Love - and so Bae, needing time and space himself, gave Belle the space she needed to take care of the man who loved them.

Baelfire knew he was in very capable hands.

When Rumplestiltskin finally awoke and was alert, it had been over a week and a half since the incident. He groaned and opened his eyes, not quite surprised to see Belle lying on the bed beside him, book in hand. She glanced over at him, eyes widening in delight as she saw him gazing at her, and she tossed the book carelessly to the side as she moved closer to him.   
  
Sitting on her knees, she reached out to gently lay her hand against his cheek. “You’re awake,” she whispered, “Thank the gods.”

He said nothing, instead turning his head to nuzzle his cheek against her palm. She smiled softly at the gesture, and scooted closer so that she could use her other hand to grab for his.

“Hey,” he whispered weakly, and Belle sniffled, relief that he would be okay finally washing over her. She’d feared the worst for so long, especially when he’d shown no signs of healing after a few days, and now she let her tears fall, joyous that he was with her.

He mistook her tears for something else, and lifted his hand - trembling from the effort - to brush the tears away. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s the matter?” She asked. “What’s the matter is you go missing and I can’t find you and when I  _ _do__  you’re strapped to some device being tortured and then you don’t wake up for over a week and I’ve been worried sick and you ask me  _ _what’s the matter?__ ”

 

She bent over and pressed her lips to his desperately, needing to know that he was alive and well. Too long she’d been alone, plagued by nightmares of him before her, only to awaken to find herself alone. She was brave, but she still knew fear, and now she feared that Rumplestiltskin’s consciousness was only a short lived thing.

He kissed her back, as much as he could, and sighed against him. Moving away, she brushed his limp, oily hair out of his face. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t go off like that. It’s hardly your fault. I was just so worried that I’d lost you again.”

He shook his head, struggling to sit up. Belle moved to assist him but he held up his hand to stop her. She waited until he was leaning against the headboard - the action clearly weakening him - and he reached out a hand to her. She took it and he pulled her to him, making her turn and settle against his side. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other rested on her lap, stroking her thigh idly. “I’m sorry, too,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to worry you. But I’m here. I’m alive.”

She nodded, and her hair tickled his chin. “And I’m glad,” she whispered, moving her hand to entwine their fingers.

He rested his cheek against her head and asked, “How long have I been out?”

“Over a week,” she answered. “I managed to get you to eat a couple times, but you were always out of it. I tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t respond.”

“That device was powerful,” he said. “It will be a while before I’m back to my old self.”

“First you get stabbed, then you get tortured. I’m not letting you out of this house ever again if you insist on getting attacked every time you leave.”

He chuckled, but the sound was weak. “I’ll stay right here so long as you promise to stay as well.”

She turned her head to look at him. “I think I can agree to that.”

He smiled down at her, moving to press their foreheads together. “Perhaps True Love’s Kiss might make me better?” He asked with a sly grin that made Belle giggle.

“I thought True Love’s Kiss only worked on curses? Sleeping curses, Dark One curses, etc.?”

She’d seen through his plan, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “True,” he agreed, knowing it was pointless to lie about the fact. His Belle was a smart girl. “But it couldn’t hurt to try.”

She leaned up obligingly and touched her lips to his, then pulled back. “Feel better?”

He frowned, feigning surprise. “Perhaps a bit; though I still feel like death warmed over.”

“Well,” Belle said as she leaned up closer to him, running her hand down his chest and trailing her fingers over the scar on his chest. “Maybe I should try again.”

“That might be best,” He agreed pleasantly.

“And if it doesn’t work, it might be best to just keep trying until it  _ _does.__ ”

One would think his magic had been restored to him fully the way he lit up. “I like the way you think, sweetheart,” he said as he pulled her to him, kissing her fully, content to stay right where he was until he was fully healed.


	85. Seizure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold has seizures. He tries to hide this fact from Belle.

He’d mastered the art of hiding his pain long ago. As the Dark One, he’d been forced to put on a show of strength, proving to everyone who crossed his path that he could not be hurt. But he wasn’t the Dark One anymore. 

The pain from the torture device had not diminished much. He was able to walk around, though he was still weak, but it had left some serious side effects. He’d begun having seizures, and though they were mild and easily controllable with a bit of magic, the fact remained that he was  _still_ suffering. 

And Belle could never know. 

It was easier to hide it from Bae. His son was being pulled in numerous directions and therefore wasn’t as focused on his father’s behavior as he may have been otherwise. Belle was a different story. She knew him far too well, and the fact that he’d been able to hide his condition for so long was a testament to his acting abilities. (Or his ability to lie, but he never allowed himself to call it that.) 

The seizures happened almost daily, but Gold was skilled at ensuring Belle was otherwise occupied while he managed to get the problem under control. It left him weak and even more pained than before, but he just made sure not to do too much in front of her and hope that she would buy his excuses. She did, or at least pretended to, and it brought Rumple equal amounts of relief and grief. 

The seizure that gripped him today was by no means the worst. If anything, Rumple thought as he convulsed, it was rather mild. He was trying to focus his energy into summoning his still-weak magic to heal himself when he heard a  _thump_  nearby. Before he could glance over, Belle was by his side, looking upon him with fear shining in her eyes. “Rumple!” She cried and she reached into her pocket to draw out the cell phone he’d given her. 

Knowing exactly what she was planning, Rumple managed to shake his head ‘no’ and quickly summoned the magic needed to make the seizure stop. He stopped shaking after a few moments and groaned as he tried to sit up. Belle helped him lean against the sofa and brushed his hair out of his face. 

“What the hell was that?” She asked worriedly. 

She knew what it was. Of course she did, but she wanted to hear him say it. With a sigh, Rumple replied, “Seizure." 

Belle frowned. "This wasn’t the first one, was it?” And the look on her face hinted that she already knew that too. 

Shaking his head weakly, Rumple murmured, “No." 

"Has this been going on since the….incident?" 

Rumple managed to nod, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He heard Belle sniffle and cracked one eye open to regard her. She was upset, of course, and he felt guilty that she’d had to see this. 

"I’m sorry,” he whispered, fighting the urge to sleep. He was so tired. 

“You should be,” she snapped, and that got his attention. “I’m here to  _help_ you, Rumple. You can’t heal properly if you don’t let me in and tell me what’s going on. How often do you have these?" 

"Daily,” he admitted regretfully. The look Belle gave him was dangerous, and he knew if he weren’t so sick and weak, she would have smacked him. 

“Rumple _stiltskin_ ,” she hissed, “You’ve been having seizures,  _daily,_ for two months and you never once thought it might be wise to tell me?" 

"You worry enough as it is." 

"And you’re going to kill yourself,” she deadpanned. “Clearly magic doesn’t help, so I’m calling Dr. Whale for an appointment and you're  _going_  and you’re going to  _listen and obey_ his instructions." 

She sagged against the couch then, looking almost as haggard as he did. "Okay?" 

He nodded, then leaned against her shoulder. "I’m sorry." 

"I know,” she said, shifting so she could wrap her arm around him. “But I’m going to take care of you,” she said as she played with his hair soothingly. “And you’re going to let me." 

He chuckled despite the pain. "Yes, ma'am." 


	86. Nun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has no memories and nowhere to go. She finds sanctuary with the nuns, and with God. Rumplestiltskin has to tread carefully if he’s going to win her back. Prompted by writeforfeels.

__For the purposes of this story, Gold was never stabbed by Hook._ _

__I don’t know a lot about Catholic practices nor much about the steps one takes to become a nun. I looked up and found the Rite of Welcome which seemed to be a kind of trial run of sorts. I apologize if anything regarding Catholic belief/practice is wrong.  
_ _

__\---_ _

She had no memory of this place, but it was the only spot where she felt remotely at home.

After fleeing the hospital, the girl called Belle wandered around the strange town she did not remember, looking for something – anything – that could spark her memories.

She came across the convent, and instantly she knew it was where she belonged.

She knocked on the door, waiting with nervous anticipation that once the nuns realized who she was, they’d send her back to the hospital, where she’d be even more closely guarded. But then door opened and it was too late for her to change her mind about this. A kind woman smiled gently at her from the doorway and instantly Belle felt relief.

The woman was a petite thing, not much larger than herself, with brown hair curled and pinned up in a lovely chignon. She wore a simple blue skirt with white button down top and blue sweater modestly covering her, and her eyes shone with kindness.

“May I help you?” The woman asked and Belle nodded.

“I need your help,” she pleaded, “I need to be safe.”

The woman, whose kind eyes now burned with concern, ushered the poor girl inside, declaring that she be told everything and ensuring the girl in hospital clothes that she  _ _would__  be safe here.

-000-

Gold returned from Manhattan, son in tow, and after ensuring his son was not going to leave at the first opportunity, he made his way to the hospital, eager to see if there’d been a change in Belle’s mental state.

He nearly destroyed the hospital when he learned that she’d left, and was now living with the nuns.

“I specifically left her in  _ _your care__ ,” Gold snarled over the phone to Charming, who was trying his best to calm the enraged imp. “Now she’s with the nuns, who are no doubt poisoning her against me!”

He didn’t allow Charming to apologize, or explain, and instead slammed the phone shut, not wanting to be bothered by the prince’s excuses.

He made his way to the convent as quickly as he could, banging on the door with his cane.

The door opened and out peaked the inquisitive and curious gaze of Sister Astrid. “Ca-Can I help you, Mr. Gold?” The girl asked meekly and Gold had no patience for the silly fairy.

“Belle,” he declared. “I want to see her.  _ _Now.__ ”

“I don’t think Mother Superior will like that,” Astrid said softly. Gold glared at her, hard and unwavering and finally Astrid caved. “I’ll take you to her,” she said, then added quickly, “But you can’t stay long. I’ll get in trouble if Mother Superior found out I let you in for something other than the rent.”

Gold, uncaring of whether or not the wretched Blue Fairy was upset or not, shoved his way past the smaller woman and motioned for her to lead the way.

They walked out into the garden that the nuns tended to, and sitting on a bench near a rose bush was his Belle, thick book in her hands. She stared at it intently, a small smile playing at her lips, and it pained Gold to see his beautiful Belle in the same drab garb of the other nuns.

She deserved to be draped in gold, in silk.

He approached her, clearing his throat slightly and she looked up, slightly alarmed, and her gaze drifted to Astrid. The other girl smiled and nodded, and Belle felt herself relax. She marked her place in the book – Gold noticed with a pang that it was this world’s holy book – and she smiled up at him, though it was the smile one gave to a stranger.

“May I help you?” She asked kindly.

“Belle,” he whispered, sinking to his knees before her, “I’m back. I’m sorry I was gone for so long but I’m back. I want you to come with me. I can take care of you. I can help you remember who you are.”

She shook her head gently. “But so can God,” She explained gently, her posture prim and rigid.

Gold’s eyes furrowed, “God?” He asked, spitting the name out.

“Yes,” she said gently. “I can here looking for help and the nuns took me in. They’ve been helping me, and I’ve been learning a lot. I’ve already taken the Rite of Welcome, and I’m going to start making my way toward joining the convent officially,” she declared proudly, “It will take some time of course, and it is my hope that as I continue to dedicate my life to God, he will bless me with my memories so that I may be a better servant for Him.”

Gold stared at the woman before him as if she were a stranger. And she was. This was not his Belle. He felt himself begin to panic, having no idea what he could do to win her over.

And then, as if it had come by some divine revelation from above, he thought of a plan.

“Help me, then,” he said suddenly. Belle gave him a strange look and he continued, “I’ve been a sinner my whole life,” he said. “Help me believe in God. Show me how to find salvation. Help me find the faith that you have found.”

Belle stared at him for a moment, stunned by his words. She was tempted to tell him that a priest would be better suited to help him; that she should not spend so much time with him, and certainly not alone. But she could not shake the feeling that perhaps this was God’s plan for her. That this man would be the way to her memories.

So she accepted.

She moved her Bible, her most cherished book, and patted the seat next to her. He stood and joined her on the bench and she opened the book back to where she’d been reading.

“Very well. Let’s start now,” she said, and began to read.

-000-

Over the next couple months, Gold and Belle would meet, sometimes at the convent, sometimes at his shop while she was out running errands for the convent. They would discuss her God, and how her faith grew every day. She would tell him of the peace she felt when she read her Bible or when she participated at Mass. He listened intently, storing all the information and twisting it so that he could pour out the same sentiments to her; her presence was helping him believe. Her words of kindness and faith proved to him that God did have a plan for him, did care for him, but he was still needed her to help him further.

If she ever became aware of his hidden agenda, she said nothing, choosing to be blind.

They began to meet in the park as well, Gold packing a small picnic for them to share as she told him about God and all His goodness. He began to ask her other questions too, under the pretense of getting to know her faith beyond just her pretty quoted verses. He asked her what made her want to become a nun, and if any of her memories had returned to her.

She said she dreamed sometimes, but that she wasn’t sure what they meant. He claimed perhaps they were memories of another life and she simply laughed, patting his hand gently and claiming there was no such thing.

-000-

One day, several months after their meetings began, Belle entered the shop, her expression solemn. “I’m going to take my vows,” she declared dryly. “Mother Superior thinks I need to make a choice. She is concerned.”

“What about?” He asked gently.

“She knows about my witnessing to you,” Belle said, “And she’s allowed it for this long, but she thinks that you have impure intentions for me and wants me to make a decision. You or my vows,” Belle said sadly. “So I have to take them.”

“Why?” Gold asked. “Why do you  _ _have__  to take them?”

“Because I’m supposed to dedicate my life to God,” she declared. “That was what I wanted. I found sanctuary at the convent and was  _ _so sure__  that was where I was supposed to be. Then you showed up and now I just don’t-“ She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself, looking small and frightened and nothing at all like Belle.

Gold stepped forward, laying his hands on her forearms. She looked up at him sharply, her eyes dark with confusion and desire.

“Kiss me,” he said gently. “Just once. If you feel nothing, then I will leave you alone and you can take your vows and live your life for God.”

“But if I feel something?” Belle asked hesitantly and Gold smiled.

“If you felt nothing, you wouldn’t have to ask,” he replied, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

She gasped, and he wondered if it were because she had no memory of ever being kissed or if it were something else entirely. He moved his lips against hers gently and it was only when he felt her gasp that he pulled away.

“Rumple?” She whispered, looking up at him dazed.

“Belle,” he replied, encouraging her to meet his eyes.  When they did he breathed a sigh of relief. She no longer looked at him as the kind man she shared the word of God with. She looked at him like she loved him.

“Rumple!” She exclaimed, throwing herself into his embrace, their lips crashing together. When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, Belle looked down at herself and her brow creased in displeasure.

“What am I wearing?” She asked, clearly unimpressed by the drab outfit.

“Nun’s dress,” he commented dryly and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at her expression.

“I do  _ _not__ want to be a nun!” She exclaimed with a laugh, pulling the sweater over her head and tossing it onto the glass counter at her side.

“I’m glad,” Rumple said as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I don’t want you to be a nun either.”

She smiled at his words and whispered, “You put up with a lot just to get me back,” she said. “I must have driven you mad with all that scripture I read.”

“I would willingly listen to you read any book you liked,” he said affectionately, “So long as I have you in my arms, you can read the whole Bible to me if you wish.”

Belle laughed. “I can think of more enjoyable things I can do in your arms instead,” she whispered and Gold smiled.

He was  _ _very__   _ _glad__  she hadn’t become a nun.


	87. Idle Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple tells Mother Superior just what he thinks about her. Sequel to “Nun”.

The door opened to the unsmiling face of Mother Superior. 

“Are you here for the rent?” She asked coldly. Gold scowled. 

“I’m here about Belle.”

Mother Superior’s frown deepened, “She chose not to take her vows,” she said primly, and Gold could tell it infuriated her to no end, “I don’t think there’s anything else to say.”

She tried to shut the door but Rumple caught it and pushed himself inside. “Oh I think there  _is_ , dearie,” he seethed, throwing the door closed as he stepped forward menacingly. He’d hated this creature ever since she meddled in his life so long ago. She’d given Bae the magic bean that brought him here, and though Rumple knew he was the cause of Bae’s departure, a small part of him still blamed the woman before him. But then, she’d messed with Belle, and now things were much more personal.

“You took advantage of her,” Rumple hissed. “She may have come here, but you could have done something else. Offer her a safe place to stay until I returned, perhaps, instead of trying to poison her against me!”

Blue held up her head indignantly, “I merely offered her comfort.” 

 “A comfort you don’t  _actually_ believe in,” Rumple hissed, “Or do you still like to pretend your some holy and pious creature who actually cares for others?”

Blue narrowed her eyes, “I do care for others,” she snapped, “Unlike some. And it’s hardly my fault that poor girl found something in which she could rely on and find comfort. I hardly forced her to the Bible.” 

“Oh, but you encouraged it, didn’t you?” 

 “She seemed happy,” Blue said pompously, “I didn’t want to take that away.” 

Rumple laughed darkly, “Oh I’m sure you had her best intentions in mind,” he said, “But the next time you get the bright idea to do something like that,  _don’t_. Leave Belle alone.” 

“She associates with  _you_ ,” Blue said, narrowing her eyes, “That alone is enough for me to know she has poor judge of character.” 

“And she chose to leave you,” Rumple echoed, “Which shows me that even when she’s completely cursed and unaware of who she is, she still has  _excellent_ judge of character.” 

He offered her a curt nod, then turned to the door. Before he stepped out, he glanced back, “However, I must offer my appreciation for Sister Astrid, as you prefer to call her, for still being good enough to come around and see her friend.” 

Blue opened her mouth but Rumple shushed her, “She’s no more a nun than you are, so if I find you’ve punished her for something that  _isn’t_ against the rules, I’ll have no choice but to raise the rent.” 

“Idle threats; that’s all you are.” 

The look he gave her was deadly, “Don’t mess with the Dark One, dearie,” he hissed, “And what’s more, don’t mess with those the Dark One or his Lady care about. I managed to bring the old world to its knees to find my son, and I can bring one simpering fairy down if I find Belle or Miss Nova have been upset in  _any_ way.” 

He let the door slam behind him, and Blue shivered in fear. 


	88. Love Light Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has something to tell Rumplestiltskin.

When she doesn’t come down for breakfast, Rumple worries. He’d left her to sleep in this morning, after she’d complained the day before of not feeling well. He hadn’t offered her a potion, knowing her aversion to ingesting the strange ingredients he uses in his magic. 

But it isn’t like her to sleep through breakfast, and he worries that she might be worse off than he originally thought. He makes his way to their room, panic gripping him slightly as he hears the sound of her coughing. He rushes inside to see Belle bent over a pail, retching. 

He summons a warm, wet rag and approaches her carefully, not wanting to startle her. He holds the cloth out to her and after a moment she takes it, before wiping her mouth and sitting up. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “I didn’t want you to hear.” 

Brows furrowed in concern, he sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand up and down her thigh. “Why not, dearest?” 

She groans. “Because you’ll worry.” 

“I always worry,” he states plainly. She giggles, then bolts upright and vomits into the pail again. 

He moves her disheveled braid and rubs her back soothingly as she empties her stomach. He thinks back to what they ate the night before and can’t think of why it would make her sick. It was a meal they had frequently, and he’d prepared it for her himself, so he knows there’s no way she could have botched the recipe this time. 

She sits back and sighs and Rumple summons a cup of water for her. She drinks it slowly and when she’s finished he makes the cup vanish. She pats his hand, and he smiles. Even when she’s sick, her concern is for him. 

“Would you like any medicine?” He asks, hoping she’ll take him up on his offer. He’d planned a romantic day for the two of them, to celebrate the next step in his plan having been successful and he didn’t want their happiness marred by Belle being unable to enjoy herself. 

As he suspected however, she shook her head. “I don’t think medicine will help what I’ve got,” she says and Rumple sees a hint of excitement in her eyes. Confused, he takes her hand and says, “I’m the Dark One, sweetheart. I can fix anything.” 

“Rumple,” she sighs, sitting up slowly so as not to make herself sick. “I’m pregnant.” 

He says nothing. What  _can_ he say? His beloved is carrying his child, and though the ache of losing Bae is still fresh and forefront on his mind, the thought of having another child - another chance - makes him shiver in delight. He can give Bae a sibling. He can show Bae that he’s a good man, a  _family_ man, and surely that will prove to his son how much he’s changed. At any rate, Bae had always wanted a little sister. “Belle,” he breathes, “Wh-” She runs her fingers through his hair.

“I’ve been sick for about a month now,” she admits sheepishly, “I was just good about hiding it.”

 “You should have said something,” he whispers. He wants to shout and laugh and cry and take Belle into his arms and dance with her around the room but his body feels like lead and he can only stare at her and imagine the not-so-distant future in which the beautiful woman before him will be heavy with his child and it’s a sight unlike anything he’s ever imagined.

“I wanted to be certain,” she says, “And I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Because of-”

"Bae.” She nods and he leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Oh Belle,” he sighs, “This is the most wonderful thing you could have ever given me.” 

She giggles, and wraps her arms around him. “I’m glad.” 

He leaps up then, all smiles and wild excitement. “Stay there,” he instructs, though they both know she had no intentions of leaving. “I’ll make you something to eat. What would you like? It doesn’t matter, I’ll make everything! You’re eating for two and I-”He’s silenced when a pillow smacks him in the face.

“Just hush and come sit with me,” she laughs. “I’ll eat later. Right now I just want to enjoy the moment.” 

He obeys and joins her on the bed. He uses magic to empty the pail and freshen her breath, which she thanks him for with a long, sweet kiss. He lets his hands fall to her stomach, which has yet to grow, but will soon. He can’t wait to experience this with Belle, to see the joy in her eyes as she holds their child for the first time. He recalls the first time he held Baelfire. The memory usually brings nothing but sadness at his foolishness, but today he can’t help but recall the intense love he felt the moment he laid eyes on his son, and he looks forward to the day when he witnesses that love light up Belle’s eyes. 


	89. Bed (Sequel to "Love Light Up")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rum fusses over a heavily pregnant Belle.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed.” 

Belle glanced up from dusting, a look of guilt on her face. “I am about to go mad,” she insisted as she continued to dust the shelf, “Lying in bed all day has gotten tiresome quickly.” 

She felt arms wrap around her large stomach and sighed as Rumplestiltskin pulled her back to lean against him. “Can I help it if I want to ensure you’re properly cared for?” He asked, pressing kisses to the crook of her neck. Belle giggled at the touch and squeezed the hand that was covering hers on her stomach. 

“I know you’re worried,” She said gently, “I am too. But sitting and doing nothing is not helping matters either. And besides,” she said, turning away from him, “Dusting isn’t a grueling task. I’m only dusting things I can reach.” She gave him a knowing look and added before he could protest, “And I haven’t been climbing ladders or doing anything you might consider dangerous. I promise.” 

Nodding, Rumplestiltskin stepped forward and took her in his arms again. He knew he was being over protective, but he hadn’t been around during Milah’s pregnancy. He had no idea what to expect nor how to act when Belle was suddenly moody, or hungry, or in pain. He was so frantic and worried about Belle that it seemed to slip his mind that countless women had given birth before. 

But this was  _Belle_ and she was his True Love. He’d give up his powers before he let anything happen to her, and if that meant being slightly annoying for two more months, then so be it. 

“Still,” Rumple said as he pulled her with him to the sofa on the other end of the room, “I don’t want you overworking yourself. You’re not my caretaker, you know.” 

Belle giggled. “Well, I was.” 

“That’s not the point,” Rumplestiltskin frowned as he pulled her onto his lap. “You’re not now. And I want to take care of you.” 

He traced his fingers lightly over her stomach, eyes lighting up when he felt a distinct kick. Rumple glanced up at Belle with a smirk. “See?” He said softly, “Even the little one agrees with me.” 

Belle sighed dramatically. “Well, if you’re both in agreement, I suppose I have no choice but to go back to bed.” 

Rumple seemed satisfied with that answer and thanked her with a gentle brush of his lips against hers. Belle wrapped her arms around him, keeping him pressed close to her. She kissed him again and whispered, “But I want you to come to bed with me.” 

Rumplestiltskin practically purred in delight, lifted her in his arms, and carried her towards their bedroom. 


	90. Hunger (Sequel to "Bed")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunger does strange things to a person, especially when they’re pregnant.

The dishes were piling up. With Rumple’s strict instructions that Belle was to do  _no_ cleaning, and with her constant state of hunger, the amount of dirty dishes that littered the kitchen were growing out of control. 

Belle wandered into the kitchen, her stomach growling in hunger. She’d eaten only an hour ago, but her appetite was not sated. She’d considered calling for Rumple to fix her something else, but she’d already done that three times that morning, and felt guilty that she was almost constantly interrupting his work. She needed to stretch her legs anyway, and thought a brief trip to the kitchen would be just the thing. 

She hadn’t expected to see the chaotic mess within, however. She began to cry when she saw how cluttered and filthy her kitchen was. Belle wasn’t one to cry over trivial things, but her emotions had been reduced to obeying the whim of her ever changing hormones, and it seemed today a messy kitchen was something she couldn’t handle. 

She cried, then cried harder as she realized how silly she was being. Deciding she would make some tea and make some toast, she set about her task, trying to work around the mess. 

She ate her small meal quickly, then contemplated what to do with her dishes. They were  _everywhere._ Sighing, she knew she wouldn’t be able to relax until the kitchen was clean. Orders be damned, she was going to clean this room! She moved all the dishes, arranging them by type on the counter next to her. Then she filled the large basin with water, grateful that the castle heated it for her, and grabbed the soap. She began to wash, scrubbing at the old, dry bits of food that had been there only Rumple knew how long. If she had to guess, he hadn’t done a single bit of cleaning since he’d ordered her to bed, and that had been  _three_ months ago. 

She was almost done with the utensils when Rumplestiltskin found her. She was still crying, though significantly less so, and Rumple rushed to her side to inquire what she was doing. 

“Dishes,” she huffed, trying to hold back a sniffle. Rumple frowned. 

“I can see that,” he said, “Why?” 

“Because they’re filthy!” She exclaimed, grabbing a plate and shoving it violently under the water. 

“I was going to take care of it,” he tried sheepishly but Belle silenced him with a glare. 

“I really don’t think you were.” 

“Why are you here anyway,” Rumple asked, trying to change the subject. “I thought I told you to stay in bed.” 

“I was hungry.” 

He sighed, “I would have taken care of it,” he pressed, moving to stand behind her, “One little wave of my hand would take care of it.” 

Belle sighed. “I know. I just….got upset.” 

“So I see,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Would you like some help?” 

Belle nodded and he dipped his hands in the water, covering hers with his as they scrubbed the plate together. Half an hour later they finished, and Rumple dried and sent the dishes back to their rightful place with a wave of his hand. “There,” he said, placing his hands on his hips, looking proud. “All done.” 

He turned to look at his wife again. She looked exhausted from the activity, and he scooped her up in his arms to carry her back to bed. “Wait,” she said, struggling out of his embrace. He let her down and she moved to the cupboard and grabbed a bowl full of fruit and a wedge of cheese. She refused to meet Rumple’s eyes as she informed him, “I’m still hungry.” 

Laughing, Rumple whisked her off to their room, promising the entire time he’d clean up every dish she used, regardless of how many there were. 


	91. Breakfast (Sequel to "Hunger")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast in bed. And a special request.

Belle loved her child dearly, but she was beginning to long for the day when she was no longer pregnant. She only had a few more weeks to go until it was time, and it couldn’t come soon enough. She sighed, shifting as she tried to get comfortable. It wasn’t even yet dawn, but she’d been awake for the majority of the night, her only comfort coming from Rumple’s soft breathing beside her. She hated all the tossing and turning she did, afraid she’d wake him up. He claimed he didn’t actually need sleep, and that if she woke him it was little matter, but Belle wasn’t quite convinced of that.

She shifted again, feeling her child kick, and while she was so pleased that the baby seemed healthy and active, she couldn’t wait for the day when her child didn’t take its restlessness out on her insides. Groaning, Belle shifted again, folding her hands under her lower back and pressing hard as she arched up slightly. It brought some comfort and she quickly reached for one of the extra pillows on the large and lavish bed to tuck underneath her. The position was the best she’d felt all week, and soon she felt herself nodding off, the exhaustion of pregnancy finally overpowering the discomfort.

When she awoke, it was to the smell of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and tea. She blinked groggily, looking up curiously when she realized she hadn’t been merely dreaming of food. Before her stood Rumplestiltskin, decked out in his Dark One attire which was meant to instill fear in others, holding a tray piled high with breakfast. He looked at her with worry mixed with hope and gently pushed the tray forward.

“I made breakfast,” he said softly, aware of her ever-changing moods. “I hope you don’t mind.”

She felt tears well in her eyes and, afraid he would take that wrong, she smiled and moved to a sitting position (which was no easy feat) and patted the place beside her. Rumple looked relieved and quickly deposited the tray onto the bed. He followed suit and settled himself next to his wife, handing her a plate full of food. She took it gratefully, then placed it aside so she could face Rumplestiltskin. “Thank you,” she whispered, and Rumple responded with a kiss.

She picked up her plate and began to nibble on the bacon before she paused and glanced at Rumple, offering him a pleading look. “What’s wrong, dearest?” He asked, ready to do whatever she asked of him.

She swallowed the bite she’d taken and asked, “Do we have any pickles?”

Rumple leapt up in an instant, declaring, “I’ll get you some. Just a moment!” And he vanished in a puff of smoke. Belle giggled, then picked up another piece of bacon, content to munch on that until her husband returned. She’d have to think of a way to properly express her thanks for his devoted caring. 


	92. Delivery (Sequel to "Breakfast")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple delivers his child.

The sound of glass breaking sent Rumplestiltskin racing down the hallway, where he knew Belle was (supposed to be) resting. He threw the door open to see Belle kneeling on the ground, tea set in shambles around her, and the ancient, priceless rug soaked. 

Rumple stepped forward, but then Belle cried out in pain and he rushed to pull her in his arms. “What happened?” He asked, brow furrowed in concern. 

“Baby,” she murmured, taking a deep, labored breath. 

“Yes,” he said, soothingly, “You’re carrying our child, which means you shouldn’t be carrying anything else, as I’ve sa-” 

“No, you idiot!” She snapped, “It’s coming!” 

He jerked away for a moment, aghast. “I thought we still had more time!” He said, panic rising as he looked at Belle, who was struggling to sit back on her heels. 

“Well, apparently not,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “Because my water broke.” 

Acting almost entirely on instinct, Rumple swept Belle in his arms and disappeared into their bedroom. He ensured she was comfortable, then pressed a kiss to her sweat-drenched forehead. “I’ll fetch the midwife, then.” 

Belle nodded, then cried out and gripped Rumple’s hand in hers. “Oh, gods,” She cried, “I don’t think there’s time.”

Rumple looked at her questioningly and she sighed, her annoyance apparent even through the pain, “It’s coming,” she said even as she winced in pain, “ _Now.”_

“I’ve never delivered a child,” Rumple stated, even as he moved to the foot of the bed, preparing himself to do whatever he could to help his True Love and their baby. Belle managed a shrug. 

“I’ve read all about it,” she groaned, “I’ll tell you what to do.” 

He nodded, then set about magically summoning all the items Belle said he’d need. He had not been present during his first child’s birth. Even if he had been present, men in his village generally stayed away while the woman gave birth. He felt afraid, worried that he would do something wrong and cause Belle harm. She glared at him. 

“I’m already in pain, you great oaf,” she said in between controlled breaths, “Just shut up and do what you’re told.” She then winced as another sharp pain gripped her and breathed out, “Please.” 

Rumple nodded and set to work. He listened as Belle gave instructions, which were interspersed with groans, labored breaths, and the occasional curse. Finally, after what felt like hours, Rumplestiltskin stood, staring down in awe at the little girl in his arms. He smiled, eyes shining with tears, and looked up at Belle, who was watching them with the same look of awe. 

After swaddling the girl, Rumple moved to sit on the bed, and handed the child to Belle. She laughed, even as tears slid down her face, and rested her head against Rumple. “Thank you,” she whispered, exhaustion finally catching up with her. 

Rumple pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said, “But I’ve never done this before.” 

She shook her head tiredly, “You were wonderful,” she sighed, then looked down at the child in her arms, “Hello, there, precious,” Belle cooed, “It’s so nice to finally meet you." 


	93. Every Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Rumple babysit Rolland.

 Robin sighed in relief as he transferred Roland from his arms to Belle’s. Regina stood off to the side, watching the exchange with a hidden smile as Roland wiggled in Belle’s arms so that he could wave goodbye to his father. 

Belle shut the door, then glanced mischievously at Roland. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to sword fight!” 

Belle put the boy down and went over to the edge of the stairs and called up to Rumple, “We need swords!” 

His voice echoed from the guest room where his wheel was set up. “Why?” 

“To fight bad guys, of course!” Belle called back as she winked at Roland. A moment later, wooden swords magically appeared at Belle’s feet and she picked one up before giving the other to Roland. “Let’s go!” She said as the two raced to the backyard. 

 

~000~

Rumple didn’t want to intrude. He knew Roland would probably be a little nervous around him after the incident in the forest. He didn’t begrudge Belle doing her friend a favor, and if he were honest with himself, Rumple adored Roland. His wild, fluffy hair and wide, brown eyes reminded him so much of Bae. And at any rate, it was nice to hear laughter from outside his window. It had been too long since he’d heard the joyful laughter of a child and he relished in it as he let the wheel spin. 

After a while, Belle’s and Roland’s shrieks proving to be quite the enjoyable distraction, Rumple looked out the window and into the backyard. Roland was attacking Belle with his little sword, and Rumple noticed the boy was already being trained in the art of swordplay. His stances were sloppy, as any child’s would be, but he was in the right position, whereas Belle was simply hopping around, laughing and blocking his strikes. Rumple smiled. This could be them one day, he thought idly. 

It was a pleasant thought to dwell on: Belle outside playing with  _their_ child. The loss of Bae had cut him deeply, and while he hadn’t actively toyed with the idea of having another child, the sight of Belle looking so  _happy_ made him wonder if she wanted one. She’d mentioned at one point that she considered herself to be Bae’s stepmother. It had been so heartwarming yet painful to know she loved his son as much as he did, and part of him wanted to give her the chance to love a child as her own. She did so well with children. 

He debated on venturing outside and joining in the madness, but thought better of it. He would only sour the mood, and he was content to watch Belle’s happiness from afar. He watched on, eventually getting lost in his thoughts. He jumped in surprise when a small rock hit the window, and glanced down to see Roland sitting on Belle’s shoulders, both looking up at him.

“Mr. Rumple,” Roland called out, “Help! She’s got me!” 

Rumple smirked, watching as Belle pulled the boy down into her arms and began to tickle and kiss his cheeks mercilessly. He let out a breath, then moved himself from the room to stand before Belle. 

She glanced up at him, and Roland cried out, breathless from laughing, “Help! She’s kissing me!” 

Rumple used a bit of magic to remove Roland from Belle’s clutches. She looked up in surprise to see Roland clutching Rumple’s leg, Rumple laughing while Roland stuck his tongue out at her. 

Rumple picked the boy up, and grinned slyly, “Those were  _my_  kisses she was giving away,” Rumple teased, “How should we punish her for being so mean?” 

Roland thought for a moment, then cried out, “Tickle her!” 

Rumple reached out and grabbed Belle’s arm before she could get away. “You heard the little master,” Rumple said, “A sound tickling for your crimes.” 

Belle shrieked as Roland leapt from Rumple’s arms to hers, and began tickling her. Rumple pulled them both to him and held her close, enjoying the sound of Belle’s hysterical laughter as Roland got his revenge. 

~000~

Later, after Belle surrendered and Rumple treated Roland to pizza and ice cream for his brave defeat of the “Mean Kissing Lady”, they settled in the living room to let Roland play with some of the toys in his backpack. Eventually, he fell asleep, lying on his stomach amidst his wooden soldiers, sword, and books. Belle giggled as she turned to Rumple. 

“This was fun,” she whispered, not wanting to wake up the boy. Rumple nodded. 

“I agree.” 

She smiled. “Thank you for playing with him.”

“Thank you for having him ask.”

Belle shook her head. “I didn’t,” she said. “It was his idea.” 

Blinking in surprise, Rumple glanced down at the boy. “Why?” 

Belle shrugged. “He said his father told him you were a good man and were forced to be mean. That you didn’t mean it and would never willingly hurt any of us.” 

“Huh,” Rumple breathed, amazed that Robin had been so forgiving. Belle continued. 

“He saw you watching us and asked if he could invite you. I didn’t think you’d come but told him to try.” 

“Of course I came,” Rumple declared, “You were kissing another man. You had to be stopped.” 

Belle leaned close and kissed his lips, “From now on, I promise I’ll only kiss you.” 

“Papa and ‘Gina do that, too,” Rumple and Belle jerked away to see Roland staring at them sleepily from the floor. “It’s icky.” 

Belle buried her head into Rumple’s chest to stifle her laughter. “It’s not icky when it’s True Love, silly,” Belle said as Roland stood and stumbled over to where they sat. He curled into Belle’s arms and fell asleep almost instantly. Belle kissed his head, then glanced back at Rumple, “Right?” 

Rumple smirked and pressed his lips to hers. They lounged on the sofa, Rumple watching affectionately as Belle ran her fingers through Roland’s hair. He sighed in contentment. Belle was a natural. And she deserved the chance to have a child of her own. “This is perfect,” Belle whispered as she relaxed against Rumple, “I wish we could do this every day.”

It as decided. Once Roland was back with his father, Rumple was going approach Belle about starting a family of their own. 


	94. The Dragon, The Knight, and The Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Rumple take Rolland to the park for a play date with his future big brother. Belle has some news. prompted by steampunk-archer

The bell chimes, signaling that someone has entered the pawnshop. Rumple puts down the antique necklace he’s repairing and steps out front to see who needs his help now. He smiles when he sees Belle and little Roland, whom they’re watching again today. Belle smiles sweetly at Rumple, and in her distraction, Roland breaks away from her and goes straight for the umbrella holder full of swords near the counter. 

He grabs the hilt of one and tries to pull, but his hands are small and he’s not quite as strong as his Papa, so the sword doesn’t budge. Roland pouts, then gasps in delight when Rumple appears and removes the sword, kneeling down so Roland can see. 

“It’s a special sword,” Rumple tells the boy, “It once belonged to a great hero. Passed it on to his nephew.” Roland touched the flat of the blade, tracing his small fingers over the swirling detail elegantly etched into the metal. “It even glows,” Rumple says with a wicked grin. 

“Wow,” Roland says, clearly amazed. One of Roland’s favorite things is to come to the pawn shop. There are so many things to see and touch, and Mr. Rumple always has a story to tell. Every object has a history, a story, and Roland loves a good story. 

“But that’s a story for another time,” Rumple says as he puts the small sword back where it belonged. He steps away to grab his jacket from the back. He returns a moment later and gestures to the door. “I believe we have somewhere to be?”

  
Roland nods enthusiastically and rushes to the door. Rumple and Belle follow him, and they quit the shop for the park. 

When they arrive, Henry is waiting for them, storybook at his side, two wooden swords on top of it. He’s a prince and a hero through and through, and he’s taken it upon himself to teach his potential step-brother all the ropes. Henry’s had plenty of experience with these kinds of things, so he believes that other than Roland’s father, he’s perfect for the job. 

Roland rushes toward Henry, who sweeps the boy into his arms and spins him around. Roland laughs and squeals in delight, and Belle squeezes Rumple’s arm as she watches the precious scene before her. 

“I’m so glad they get along,” she says, “Henry deserves some simple pleasures like this.” 

“Indeed he does,” Rumple agrees as they sit on the bench next to the book, keeping a careful eye on the two boys as they chase each other. Belle leans into Rumple and sighs contentedly. “Roland will be spending the night,” she says after a minute, “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Rumple presses a kiss to his love’s temple, “Of course not. I’m quite fond of the boy.” 

“That’s good,” Belle says softly, “Because he’s going to become part of the family. Sort of. Technically.” 

Rumple glances at Belle curiously, “What?” 

Smiling, Belle turns her attention back to Roland and Henry, who have abandoned their game of chase. Henry runs over to grab the swords he brought, Roland following close behind. 

“I’m a dragon!” Roland declares excitedly to Rumplestiltskin. The boy roars and bares his teeth, and Rumple laughs. 

“And quite the ferocious one you are,” he says as Roland climbs onto his lap and growls again. 

“I’m going to hoard all the gold and breath fire and stop the mean knight from taking my treasure!” 

Rumple waves his hand and offers a small bag to the boy. Roland peeks into the bag, eyes widening in delight when he sees a shimmer of gold inside. 

“Gold!” 

“As you said, all dragons need gold,” Rumple says with a smirk, “Protect it well, oh mighty dragon of Storybrooke.” 

Roland grins and hops off Rumple’s lap before turning and chasing Henry, claiming he has real gold and he’ll never let the older boy take his treasure. Belle smiles, “Robin is going to wonder how his son came across that,” she says idly. Rumple pulls her close and whispers in reply, “It’s not real. It’s just chocolate coins. The wrapper is gold.” 

Belle laughs. “I think they’ll enjoy that more than real gold anyway.” 

“Indeed.” 

They sit silently for a while, watching the terrifying dragon fight the  valiant knight. At lenght, Rumple speaks, “I believe you were telling me that a dragon is now part of my family?” 

Belle blinks curiously, then recalls their conversation before the boys had interrupted. “Oh!” She says excitedly, “Yes! Robin is planning to propose tonight.” 

Rumple raises his brow in surprise. “Well, I suppose everyone  _can_ find their happy ending,” he says, amazed. He looks out to watch Roland and Henry, smiling as the older boy falls to the ground, crying out that he’s been defeated. Roland laughs merrily and pretends to breath fire on his older playmate. “And if anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s those two.” 

Belle nods in agreement. “Henry will make a wonderful brother,” she says softly, before smiling mischievously, “And I’m sure he’ll make a great nephew as well.” 

Rumple turns his head sharply to look at Belle. She winks at him, and her smile widens. He stares at her for a long while, eyes trailing down to her still flat stomach. They’d decided they wanted a family, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. Rumple grabs Belle’s face and pulls her close for a searing kiss. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers, tears beginning to fill his eyes. “Truly?” 

Belle smiles, “Looks like our happy ending just got happier,” she giggles, then cries out in surprise as she’s suddenly attacked by a tiny dragon.

“I captured the princess!” Roland declares, hugging Belle’s neck from where he stands behind her. Belle laughs and cries out for help, pleading with someone to save her from the dragon that’s taken her prisoner. 

Rumple stands and sweeps the boy into his arms, glaring playfully, “That’s  _my_ princess, you cruel dragon!” Roland laughs as Rumple holds him upside down by his feet. Henry approaches and sticks his tongue out at Roland. “The Dark One captured the dragon!” He declares, “We’re all saved!” 

Roland cackles in delight, and Belle smiles as she watches Rumple, Roland, and Henry play. The boys want him to join in their fight. Rumple glances back at Belle, whose hands are resting gently over her stomach. She smiles and waves him away. “Go,” she says lovingly, “I’ll be right here.” 

He steps to her and kisses her once more, letting his hand brush over her stomach. “I love you,” he whispers, then turns to go after the dragon and the knight. Belle watches on, laughing at their antics, and looks forward to the day when her own child can join the fray. 


	95. Names (Sequel to "The Dragon, the Knight, and the Surprise")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They try to pick a name for their child.

“Well, how about Ophelia?” 

“She kills herself.” 

Rolling her eyes, Rumple tries again, “Juliette?” 

“Kills herself.” 

“Daisy?” 

He hears a huff. “ _No.”_

“Scarlett?” Rumple offers and bites back a laugh at Belle’s growl of frustration. 

“If you’re not going to be helpful, then go away.” 

Rumple stands and enters the bathroom where Belle is currently brushing her hair. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his head into the crook of her neck. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a chuckle, “But your list is just as ridiculous. Hermione? Hester? Viola?” 

Belle huffs. “Well, at least my names were based off females who were brave and selfless, not stupid, spoiled girls.” 

Placing a kiss on her cheek, Rumple sighs, and looks up at their reflections. “I know, my dear,” he says sweetly, “And I must admit, I  _am_  rather fond of Lucy or Jane. Elizabeth is a favorite too.” 

Belle smiles in satisfaction and leans against Rumple. “See?” She says, “My choices are good. They’re all smart, brave, and kind.” 

“Well, if that’s the kind of name you’re looking for, may I suggest naming our daughter after the most beautiful, selfless, and intelligent woman I know?” 

“Who?” Belle asks, brow raised in curious amusement. 

“You.” 

She smiles at the compliment, then narrows her eyes. “We are  _not_ naming our daughter Belle Junior.” 

Rumple shrugged. “Then I suppose we’ll have to settle for Elizabeth.” 

Belle hummed in satisfaction. “I like it.” She waited a beat, then added, “Now we need to choose a middle name." 


	96. Mayor Belle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is elected mayor of Storybrooke, Prompted by Westcoastmalone.

Everything was under control. 

Belle had gone straight from the docks, read the instructions Rumple had left with her and cast the spell to keep Storybrooke safe in his absence. 

Then she’d immediately gathered up all the remaining residents of Storybrooke and informed them of what was happening and that despite the danger they were no doubt still in, they needed to carry on as they had before. Open shops, provide services, keep the children in school. There needed to be a semblance of normalcy for the people, and they’d all eagerly agreed.

 

Then they’d elected her Mayor of Storybrooke. 

There hadn’t even been an election, really. Several members of the town council had approached her less than a week later, while she was trying to salvage what she could of her precious library, and asked - begged - her to take charge. 

She’d been beyond baffled why they would want her, but after some convincing she accepted the position and was promptly escorted to the office. 

It had apparently been an unanimous decision, all the townspeople deciding that the best person to lead them in the absence of the Charmings was the True Love of Rumplestiltskin. She no doubt was privy to more information than the lot of them, and word had quickly spread of her resourcefulness and intelligence, and it had been decided. 

Belle had no idea what a mayor did, so she approached it as if she were a Lady leading her people. 

She called on her father and after a long, firm discussion with him about  _never_  doing anything to mess with her memories again - she’d had quite enough of that, thank you very much - she enlisted his help. Her father had been a fine leader back in the old world, and he had more than enough memories of Storybrooke to be able to explain to her some of the political workings that she was not familiar with. He’d been happy to help her, and she assigned him a role on the city council.

Next, she appointed Ruby as Sheriff. Ruby had been reluctant, but after Belle explained - promised- it was only until David and Emma and company came back - because they  _would_ come back - Ruby agreed, only after making it clear that if she found another heart in a box, she was  _done._

She enlisted Jefferson’s help too, asking him if he would take up the mantle of librarian because the thought of the library remaining closed broke her heart, and he’d been happy to agree. He and his beloved daughter worked on the library together, Jefferson glad to have something they could do as a family, and it warmed Belle’s heart to see father and daughter so happy. 

Belle kept a watchful eye on the town, recruiting the dwarves as guards to anyone who might try to break through. They created their own schedule so there was someone at the town line constantly and kept a vigilant keep over their city. 

Things fell into place, thanks to Belle’s meticulous focus and determination, and after a few months, Storybrooke fell into a comfortable routine. There was always the threat of invasion from the people Tamara and Greg had worked for, but Belle firmly believed that Rumple’s spell would keep them safe. And so far, it had. 

After things settled and she was no longer practically living in the Mayor’s office - which she had completely redecorated to suit her tastes- She decided to relocate. She no longer had interest in the apartment above the library - it had never quite felt like home - and although her father told her on numerous occasions that she would always have a place in his home should she wish to move in, Belle resolutely refused, and instead packed up her few belongings and moved into Rumplestiltskin’s house. 

She wore his shirts when she slept and slept on his side of the bed,and she prayed every night that tomorrow would be the day they all came home and she could finally be with her True Love. 

But things remained the same. Storybrooke continued to function and survive as it always had. The dwarves kept watch and Ruby was vigilant in her duties as Sheriff. The library was opened and sucessful and the school was up and running, the children eager to return to their routine. The nuns had stepped in and taken over the open teaching positions, and Belle couldn’t help but feel proud of how well everything was going. 

Then, one cool autumn day, a little over a year after Belle had been elected Mayor, something happened.

She was sitting in her office doing paperwork when she heard a commotion outside. She turned in her chair and looked out the window, which was open to let in the light and cool breeze and saw the unmistakeable glow of long blonde hair. 

It was Emma. 

It was Emma, hugging a few townspeople, and next to her was everyone else, including a few new people, all embracing and interacting with their friends. It only took her a moment, but she noticed then that the only person missing from the group was- 

“Oh, God,” she whispered, tears brimming her eyes and she turned, set on racing out of the office to find out what had happened to him but froze mid step. 

Standing in her doorway, looking much older and worn than he’d ever looked before, was Rumplestiltskin. 

The tears that had begun out of despair now fell down her cheeks in absolute joy and she sobbed out his name as she raced forward, launching herself into his arms and pressing her lips fully and firmly against his. His arms wrapped around her, and he shifted so he could lean against the door frame and held her tighter, kissing her hard, tears sliding down his cheeks. 

Finally, though it wasn’t long enough to satisfy either of them, he pulled away just enough to whisper her name and she let out a sound that was a mixture between a laugh and a sob, and they clung to each other. 

He peppered kisses on her cheeks, in her hair, in the spot where her neck met her shoulder. She squeezed him tightly, whispering his name over and over, telling him she loved him and he was  _never_ going anywhere without her ever again and she didn’t give a damn what he thought about it.

He laughed then, a soft, tired sound and assured her that he wasn’t going  _anywhere_  any time soon. 

That seemed to appease her, and she led him over to her desk, letting him sit in the cushioned dark blue chair that was for visitors and she knelt at his feet, taking his hands in hers. 

“Everyone is all right?” She asked and he nodded, clearly exhausted. 

“Everyone is all right,” he said. Then he offered her another tearful smile, “Including Bae.” 

Belle started. “What?!” She exclaimed in disbelief. 

“He survived,” Rumple said, leaning forward to cup her face with his hands. “I have my boy,” he whispered. “I didn’t fail.” 

She laughed, elation filling her completely and she rose up on her knees to hug him. “That’s wonderful,” she said. “I’m so happy for you, Rumple.” 

He said nothing, merely hummed in response and held her closer. It had been a little over a year for her. It had been much longer for him. 

He pulled her up then, bringing her to sit in his lap and she went willingly, careful of his leg. He gave a curious look around the office, the one he clearly remembered being black and white and distinctly  _Regina_  but now was painted a light and cheerful yellow, with dark blue and other colorful accessories. He glanced at the nameplate on the desk that read in a simple but lovely font, “Mayor Belle French”. 

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a humored glance. “Mayor?” He asked and she nodded. 

“I didn’t even have to run,” She said with a laugh and Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help but join her. 

“So, you’re in charge of the town?” He asked, clearly impressed. She nodded again. 

“I am. Jefferson is in charge of the library, Ruby is Sheriff, though I’m sure she’s already handed the badge back over to Emma, and my father is on the council. He’s been helping me figure things out.” 

“So you made your peace with him, then?” Rumple said. “That’s good.” 

“It is. I couldn’t have done it without him. But everyone’s been helping out. Things couldn’t have gone better, given the circumstances.” 

He thought about how Storybrooke seemed when they’d made it back. It was still intact, for which he was immediately grateful, but they’d all been surprised to see the town behaving as it had before the madness of curses and magic revealed itself. 

Ruby had been the first to see them, out on patrol, and after she’d given them a brief overview of the last year, she began yelling for everyone to come out and welcome them home. 

Belle slid off Rumple’s lap, which earned her a whimper, but she ignored it and pulled out a notepad from one of the drawer’s on her desk. She hopped back over and resumed her spot on his lap, and opened the notebook for him to review. 

“What’s this?” He asked even as understanding dawned on him. 

“It’s the rent everyone owed you,” she said. “I ran the numbers, with some help, and we ended up lowering the price for several people, but I sent out Dove every month to collect it.” 

He looked up at her in complete awe, and she shrugged. “Someone had to do it,” she said. “Business had to carry on like normal.” 

He pulled her down and kissed her again, slow and languidly. When they finally broke away he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I am  _so_  proud of you, Sweetheart.” 

She smiled and giggled and kissed him again. “And I’m happy you’re back.” 

They kissed again, Belle sinking into his embrace. They would have remained that way for much longer, but they were interrupted by Regina’s sudden, dumbfounded cry, “What the  _hell_  happened to my office?!”


	97. Re-elections (Sequel to "Mayor Belle")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for re-elections, but who will the town choose? Prompted by forlittledeemsmyroyaldame.

Despite the fact that Storybrooke had been shaken by the return of the Charming’s and the rest of the Neverland group, things progressed almost as normally as they had for the past year.

 

Ruby had quickly handed over her badge and gun to Emma, declaring she missed waitressing because, despite the lowered pay, it was much less stressful. David took his place as Deputy beside his daughter, and Snow White and Henry returned to Storybrooke elementary.

 

The others who had come along began settling into the new world as well, Belle making it her personal quest, as both Mayor and as someone who’d been in the same position, to make Aurora, Phillip, and Mulan feel at home. She had been elated to see Mulan and Phillip again, introducing them to Rumple and giving them a tour of the town and all its wonders.

Everything seemed to be quieting down and going back to the normalcy Belle had painstakingly created, but there was always an outlier to tip the scales. 

That outlier happened to be Regina. 

 

She was trying, truly trying, to be better for not only Henry’s sake but her own, but she was going to be damned if she wasn’t the Mayor. She was the Queen, after all, and therefore most qualified to for the job.

 

So she confronted Belle about it.

Belle was sitting at her desk, working diligently on a petition that had been started by some of the residents to have a system to alert the town of an invasion from the still mysterious “Home Office”. She greatly approved of the plan and was pleased that someone had thought of it. She was working out a proposal to present to the council at the next city council meeting when the doors flew open and Regina burst in. “We need to talk,” she said firmly and Belle looked up and offered the woman a sweet smile.

 

“Good afternoon, Regina,” she said pleasantly, “How can I assist you?” 

“I want to be Mayor again,” she said, getting straight to the point. 

Belle cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but that position is filled. I am looking for a secretary though.” 

Regina glared at her. “Belle,” she began, but was interrupted by an all too familiar voice.

 

“That’s Madam Mayor to you, Regina,” Gold said as he walked in, cane in one hand, a bag of takeout from Granny’s in the other. He brushed past a seething Regina and placed the bag on the desk, leaning down to press a loving kiss to Belle’s lips. “Now,” he said, standing straight to face the former Mayor, “The Mayor and I have a meeting. I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

 

He moved to the seat on the other side of the desk, facing Belle, and began to sort through the contents of the bag. 

Belle glanced up and gave Regina a sheepish grin. “Elections are in a couple months,” she stated. “Perhaps you’d like to throw in your candidacy?”

 

Regina huffed and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Rumplestiltskin gave Belle a dry look. “You would actually let her run against you?” He asked in disbelief. “After everything she’s done-”

 

“Oh, Rumple,” Belle said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Everything that happened is in the past. Henry’s been talking to me about her and believes she really is doing better. She’s been keeping the peace with Emma and hasn’t done anything worthy of concern since you returned.” She took a bite of her burger, then added, “Besides, it’s an election. We’ll let the people decide who they want in charge.”

 

Rumple would have argued, but she was right. 

-000-

The time for elections were upon them, and the only one’s running for Mayor were Belle and Regina. Belle didn’t do much by way of campaigning; merely participated in the required debates in which she sweetly but deftly overwhelmed Regina, who was used to getting her way by implementing fear and had no idea how to win the people over with charm and kindness.

 

The people in town voted, and that night it was revealed that Belle was reelected as Mayor almost unanimously. Belle was humble in her acceptance speech, thanking everyone for giving her the chance and swearing that she would do everything she could to ensure the continued safety of the town and ongoing success of the businesses. The crowd cheered and Granny declared that there would be a celebration at the diner.

 

The crowd, enticed by food and drink, made their way to the diner, leaving Rumple, Neal, and Belle behind. Neal hugged Belle, congratulating her on her victory and declaring that she was an excellent Mayor, then gave his father a pat on the back, telling him he’d meet them at Granny’s.

 

Rumple turned to follow his son but was stopped by Belle pulling on the sleeve of his suit jacket. He turned to look at her and she offered him a coy smile. “Where do you think you’re going?” She asked.

 

“To celebrate your victory,” he stated. 

She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his gently. “I think I’d like to celebrate with you first,” she said seductively and he growled in delight as she led him toward her office.

 

-000-

Regina, displeased with the turnout of the election, but determined to make the best of it, noticed that Belle was not at the diner. She had wanted to congratulate her, genuinely, but she could not seem to find the mayor. She wondered if perhaps Belle were forgoing the celebration to continue working - a dedicated ruler if ever there was one - so Regina made her way back to City Hall to see if Belle was there.

 

The door was unlocked so Regina let herself in, walking the familiar halls that had once been  _hers_  and reached the office door. She pulled it open and walked in only to stop short as she saw Rumple and Belle, kissing furiously, Belle pulling at his tie and Rumple sliding the zipper of her skirt down.

 

Horrified, Regina shut the door, careful not to make anymore noise and rushed out of City Hall. 

Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn’t mayor after all, she thought. She doubted that was the first time they’d “celebrated” on her old desk, and if that were the case, Belle could keep it.


	98. Working Late (Sequel to "Re-elections")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is working late again. Rumple doesn’t like it.

“It’s late, dearest. Why don’t you come home?”

Gold stood behind Belle, and though his words dripped with honey, he was scowling at her.

But she remained oblivious to that fact as she typed furiously on the computer, her attention fixed completely on her task.

“I can’t, Rumple,” she said, her voice dull and distracted. “I have to finish this grant application before tomorrow so the library can get money for a new system. Date stamping the books isn’t cutting it anymore.”

Gold rolled his eyes. Ever since he’d returned from Neverland to find his True Love had been elected Mayor, he’d been ecstatic. She was a natural-born leader, more so than the Charming clan, but his pride at her ability to effectively lead the people of Storybrooke had quickly given way to annoyance over the fact that she seemed far  _ _too__   _ _dedicated__  to her work.

It’d been over a week since she’d been home before nine o'clock, and Gold had finally had enough. He leaned over where she was working, grabbed the mouse from her hand, and clicked the save button on her document. It wouldn’t do to enrage her by deleting all her hard work. If anything it would cause her to stay at the office even later, and that was the very thing he was trying to prevent.   
  
Belle let out a horrified yelp, swiveling in her chair to demand he tell her what he was doing.   
  
He pressed the button on the monitor, and the screen went black. Belle glanced back from the screen to Rumplestiltskin, her eyes wide with surprise and annoyance.

“What are you doing?” She cried. He remained silent, instead reaching out with the hand that wasn’t gripping his cane and pulled her up by her wrist. Stepping to meet her, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her deeply and passionately and finally Belle melted in his embrace and kissed him back.

When the kissed ended, he gently moved away from her and declared, “I’m getting you out of this office, taking you to get some dinner, then dragging you back to the house to have my way with you.”

She giggled, the prospect of spending time with her True Love more than tempting. He stepped away from the desk, pulling on her hand as he went but when she did not follow he turned to give her a curious look.

She seemed hesitant, and glanced back at the computer. “I promised Jefferson I’d get this grant submitted for him. He had no idea what to do. The library really needs this, Rumple.”

“How much does the equipment cost?”

“Three thousand dollars.”

Gold sighed. “I’ll buy the damned stuff for the library,” he said.  
 

Her eyes widened. “You would do that?”

He tugged on her wrist. “I’ll make it a donation. But only if you come with me. Right now.”

Belle stepped forward and pressed her lips to Gold’s, humming in delight. “Okay.”

He was about to lead her out of the room, but she took a step closer to him and began pulling seductively on his tie. “How about we skip dinner,” she suggested coyly. “It’s getting late and I think I’d like to just get straight into bed.” Gold laughed huskily and wound his arm around Belle’s waist.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, sweetheart,” he said as he squeezed her waist gently. “Perhaps I could even persuade you to take the morning off?”

She shook her head. “Can’t. I have a budget meeting tomorrow at 8:30. I have to be there to-”

She was cut off by Rumplestiltskin’s lips on hers. He broke away and took her hand, tugging slightly. “Then we haven’t a minute to lose,” he declared.

Belle laughed happily and allowed him to drag her from her office.

The next morning, Belle was ten minutes late to her meeting.


End file.
